The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom
by syrupjunkie
Summary: Sakura is kidnapped and Syaoran is in charge of her case. The chase is on. Can you fall in love from one photograph? Total AU, no magic. Some cursing. Chapter 16 uploaded.
1. Coffee

Author's Note:  Another little series that sprang up in my mind.  No magic, no Clow cards, completely Alternate Universe.  Quite a few bad words, but that adds…realness?  Ah hell, I just felt like cursing a lot in a fic. Hehe.  This is just a little intro, so I'm not going to be updating for a bit, until Christmas time probably or later, but I thought I'd post this and see if anyone thinks I should continue.  If I don't get many reviews, I'll still continue just at a slower pace.  Then it'll probably not be updated until I finish the next chapter of my other series.  If there's a lot of reviews *hint hint* then I'll be forced to write more often.  Don't feel pressured though, I'm definitely going to finish this fic.  Not many Japanese words in this, so don't need a vocab guide.  Thanks to everyone who reads my stories.  It's so nice to be appreciated. (head swelling dangerously) okay, bye, need to find a pin.

Disclaimer:  *whiny* don't own CCS; why don't I own CCS?  I want to own CSS!

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 1:  Coffee

Fuck.  This is going nowhere, the papers splayed before me like a blizzard, the harsh bitter taste of stale coffee in my mouth.  I'm not a fucking step closer.  My hands go to massage my bloodshot eyes, the consequence of thirty six hours straight with no sleep and an ever increasing frustration.  Normal cases wouldn't have me so stressed, but this one is special.  _She_ is special.  I look over my notes again; what the hell is the answer?  My fingers go to my temples now, a terrible headache coming, my vision already blurry.  The sun's already peaking out of the night; the clock says six, or maybe eight, but I can't tell.  What's the link?  Shit, I can't do this anymore.

"So the great Li Syaoran is stumped on a case?  Where's that golden boy the chief so lovingly applauds?"  The voice, arrogant and derisive came from a tall lanky man, looking ridiculously like a pencil in a blue uniform: Hwang Bo.  The asshole, always trying to prove he's something.  I'm sure he hears the groan of disgust I make, but he just smiles stupidly and towers above me like a disproportioned statue, something people pass by without a second look and something for the birds to shit on.

"What do you want Hwang?"  God I hate him; it's all I can do to stop myself from putting my fist into his pitted face.

"Oh…nothing much; just thought I'd see how you're doing.  No luck yet?"  The sarcasm was dripping, my face barely holding in my fury, maybe it was the coffee, but I'm sure it was just being in the presence of this bastard.  "It's been how long?  Six, seven months?"  That's it!  I don't want to deal with this so early in the morning.

I grab his collar, tightening my grip.  He's struggling to breathe, his hands trying to pry me off him.  No such luck.  I think I'll return the favor of conversation.  "What?  Nothing to say Hwang?"  It's inhuman how angry he can make me; I just want to break his neck now, but someone stops me.

"Syaoran; put Hwang down!  You don't want disciplinary action do you?" 

 I reluctantly let go, the stick that's call Hwang slumping to the ground to catch his breath.  I hope he thinks twice next time he wants to fuck with me.  "Fine.  I swear, Hwang, you better get out of my sight now."  I turn irritably to Yamakazi, my teeth still gritting.  "One day without that asshole; just one day."  He gives me this goofy smile, something I've never learned to understand.  How can someone be _that_ happy all the time?  My face almost wants to smirk, but a frown forms as he asks his question.

"How's the Kinomoto case going?"

"Oh, don't you know?  He's having trouble.  Maybe he's losing his touch."  That voice, mocking and drawling; he's still here!  The blood is racing through my veins; the caffeine doesn't help.

"Hwang!  Get…out…of…here…now."  Each word comes out of my mouth with venom, my fist already balled into a fist.  If I could just punch him…  He slinks off to his corner desk, seeking others to pick on.  Asshole.

"Not well, huh?  I have to admit; it's hard.  I can't make any leeway with it either."

"Tell me about it."  I glance back at my desk, scattered with interviews, with forensic reports, with photographs…  Photographs; her pink and yellow bedroom, her stuffed animal Kero, her college graduation photo, green eyes.  Something glowing in them; I know it's corny, but they have…life, you know.  Where are they now?  Closed and sunk at the bottom of a lake, buried under the leaf fall in the woods?  "Damn it!"  I pound my fist against the surface of my desk, the pain nothing compared to my frustration.  The coffee mug topples, bitter liquid staining everything, the papers, the blotter, my gloves.  "Shit!"  I reach over to salvage the case file, barely in time before coffee floods over where it was.  A hand reaches over to touch my wrist; Yamakazi is looking at me, corcerned.

"Syaoran; you need a break.  How about breakfast?"

Breakfast?  What's that?  I haven't even thought of food for so long.  What did I have last night?  A candy bar?  I don't even remember.  But I guess I should eat something.  "Yeah, sure."  He leads me out into the morning; does the sun have to be that fucking bright?

"You know, a little fresh air clears the mind.  I once heard that…"  I block him out, like I need another story in my head.  I'm close; I can feel it.  It's right there in front of me, I can taste it…  "What?"  Yamakazi's been asking me something for a couple of minutes.

"Thinking about the case again?  I asked what would you like?"

We're in a booth in the diner, the pleather bouncy under me.  How did I get here?  Was I that out of it?  I really am obsessed.  I wave my hand randomly over the menu, landing at number fifty whatever that is.  "I guess this."  

The waitress gives me a quick look.  What?  "That's an unusual order to have this early."

I look at the words under my finger, a chocolate milkshake?  By Kami-sama, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.  "Oh, just bring me some eggs…bacon, coffee."  I trail off.  She looks at me again.  What now?  Did I do something wrong, bitch?  It's just the exhaustion; I'm not normally stressed out, this stressed out anyway, but her…  I could kill her right here, standing prim and proper with her white apron, greasy hair, pen scribbling on her little pad.  What?  What is so damn interesting about me?

Luckily Yamakazi interrupts my thoughts.  "I think he means he'll have two eggs, scrambled, two strips of bacon and cup of coffee. Number fifteen."  She seems placated, scrawling my order down, taking the menus away, trotting down to the counter, her white apron waving.  Good riddance.  I jolt awake, Yamakazi's voice again hanging in the air.  What's he saying?  "Syaoran?  Are you even listening to me?"

"Uh…yeah.  What were you saying?"

"I said you look like hell; when's the last time you slept?  Is this case that important to you?"

I know he's right; it's ridiculous to stay up for days on end eating crap and drinking the liquid death called coffee.  But like I said, this case is special.  "Yes, it is."  Automatically, I'm already flipping through the case folder, scouring the evidence over again, hoping I missed something the last thousand times I've done this.  I look up again to Yamakazi's mouth moving, his voice suddenly registering in my brain.  "What?"

He shakes his head in disbelief.  "You're obsessed with this case; you'd think you were in love with her."

The heat rushes to my face; I know I'm already red.  Damn.  I'm fucking twenty five and I can't get over this stupid blushing.  Though I've never really had much reason to blush before; he just doesn't know how close he is.  I'll never hear the end of this.  "No."

He laughs, loudly and uncontrollably; the other customers stare at us but turn back to their food.  He's still laughing, gasping out words.  "You…love…her.  I…can't…believe…this."

I glare at him, wanting to burn a hole right through him.  He finally stops laughing wiping the tears away from his eyes.  "I don't love her."  The fire in my face tells me differently, to Yamakazi too.  Shit.

He smiles like an idiot, how anyone can do that without breaking their face is beyond me.  "You're blushing.  This is just too screwed up; how do you fall in love with someone you've never met?  Photographs?"

I give up; he'll just pester me until I break.  "No, there's more.  I…"  This has to come out; no one knows this and yet I'm sure the chief would kill me if he knew.  "I talk to her."

His smile fades, replaced by a blank, stupid look.  I don't blame him; he'll ask 'how.' "How?"  I'm proud of myself; he's so predictable.

"On the phone."  He still looks lost.  Shit.  This was supposed to be my secret.  Fine; it's all got to come out anyway, doesn't it?  "I'll tell you how."  I sigh, the coffee's not here yet.  Where's that bitch?  Never mind; I'll just have to do this without it.  "I'll start from the beginning."

__

Author's Notes:  Oooh, rated 'R' my first!  Tell me how it was.  Can anyone suggest a good title; I'm not sure if mine is that good.  Oh, and chapter title suggestions are welcome too.  Arigatou for all reviews and also arigatou for anyone who read this little chapter.


	2. The Phone Call

Author's Note:  Ahh! It's finals week and I've got one more left.  One!!  But that means I gotta cram today so I'm posting this little part up cause I can't finish the whole idea for this chapter anytime soon.  Characters in this series are a bit OOC, but mostly they're just exaggerated from their original personalities, except Naoko.  I just need to change her image; gomen if that makes anyone angry.  Read and review please.  Thanks to everyone who reviewed, that's why this chapter's coming up so soon.  If only I could write for my other fic…damn schedules and writer's block!!  On with the chapter!!

Disclaimer:  I have as much chance of owning CCS as sprouting wings and flying.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 2:  The Phone Call

March 23 

As usual, I had the customary stack of papers to sort through; what the hell was I thinking signing up for operator duty this week?  The fucking phone kept ringing too, ladies with cats in tress, lost bicycles, lost wallets.  I mean, couldn't they just do it themselves?  Mind you, I'm not promoting vigilantism, but there's only so much I can do.  Sure I can take down a criminal or solve a crime, but how do they actually expect me to find a wallet somewhere in the city?  And now I have to calm down this woman, whose 'snookums' or whatever she calls that cat of hers, is stuck in a tree.  I wanted to just tell her to get a rake and get it down herself, but no.  Rules of politeness; must say 'Ma'am, we would like to help you, but all of our officers are on patrol.'  And then she would just complain on and on about how scared she was her cat would fall and how it was my duty to help a citizen in need.  I tune her out, not an easy thing to do considering her high-pitched voice.  So she drones on and I'm trying to alphabetize all these reports; what comes after 'Kamiya?'  "What?"

The woman's voice gets even shriller if that's possible; I can swear my ears are dripping blood.  "Well, what _are_ you going to do?"  Absolutely nothing.

"Ma'am we can't help you; maybe you should find a neighbor to help you."  Before she has time to complain more, the phone's already slammed onto the hook.  I can see her, watching her precious 'snookums' from her kitchen window, going 'Hmmp…well I never' in her righteous anger.  Either way, I'm still sorting through this crap, what _does_ go after Kamiya? The phone rings again, the piercing trill grating on my nerves.  I will never do operator duty again.  "This is Precinct 74.  What is the problem?"  

The voice on the other end comes out gasping, a quiet whisper, almost breathless.  "H-Hello?"

"Can you talk louder; I can't hear you very well."  What is it with these people?

"I can't talk louder; he'll hear me."  She sounds fearful, maybe my day will actually have something interesting.

"Who?  What's the problem?"

"I don't know who.  I've been kidnapped; I don't know where I am."  Her panic is evident in her voice.  I sweep all the files onto a nearby chair pulling out a fresh form.  Damn the procedures, but we must all comply, don't we?

"Kidnapped?  Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but I don't know where I am."  I'm surprised at her relative calm; that woman with the cat was nearly hysterical.

"Can I have your name miss?"

"Kinomoto Sakura."  Kinomoto?  "Give me your phone number, quickly."  She sounds hurried; my mind a blank.  I blurt out my home number.  What am I doing?  Before I can correct myself, she's already speaking.

"I'll call again; he's here."  Then the telltale click sounded on the receiver; the conversation over.  Kinomoto Sakura?  Wasn't that name familiar?  I quickly shuffle through the mess of papers, not alphabetized by the way, thank the cat woman for that.  My eyes finally find the little typed name, on the flap of a folder, just like any other report.  Opening it, a single sheet falls out; nothing very impressive.  I look at the case, a few sentences typed, very recent, actually last night.  

**Name:  Sakura Kinomoto **

**Age: 25**

**Height: Five feet seven**

**Hair:  Brown**

**Eyes: Green**

**Last Seen:  at work at Tsukimine Café down on Fifty-First. ** Hmm…I get take out from there, pretty good food too.  

**Reported Missing:  March 22, at twenty three thirty by Tomoyo Daidouji, her roommate.  Lives at 5B Sundance Complex on 23rd street.  **I scan the notes, whoever was typing really didn't care much about this case.  

Additional notes:  Probably out late, maybe with some guy; give her twenty four hours, she'll probably show up.  Well we know that idea's out the window.  At least it know who I can start questioning….but I probably should just leave it to whoever's in charge of this case.  Let's see…Yanagisawa?  

A coincidence; I see her just rushing by.  "Yanagisawa."  She turns, her face screwed up into an irritated scowl.

"What's wrong?  I've gotta go.  Spit it out!"

If there's anything to know about Noako Yanagisawa, it's that when she's pissed, her innocence just comes off like a mask.  "I got a phone call from Sakura Kinomoto."

Noako looks at me with an impatient exasperation.  "Good, you handle it; I'm on duty now."  She pushes through the glass doors, the blur of her uniform disappearing into a car before I can tell her anything.  

"What's wrong with her today?"  I ask no one in particular.  I almost jump when Yamakazi answers from behind me.

"Didn't you know; she caught her boyfriend cheating on her.  I happen to hear…"  I interrupt not wanting to hear the gruesome details.

But looking at her today…"I wouldn't want to be that boyfriend."

"If you were, you'd be in the hospital."  I stare incredulously; Naoko put him in the hospital?  "Yep, a broken nose and a dislocated arm."  I wince at the thought of it.  

"Remind me never to tick her off."  As if struck by a bright light, I suddenly remember what I have to do.  "Takashi, can you take operator duty for the rest of today?"

"Why?"  His face is all smiley, wait till he has to deal with the crap that comes out of that damned phone.

"Because Naoko told me to take one of her cases."  Okay I lied, but it's sort of true.  That and who wouldn't want to get away from operator duty?

"Sure."  He has no idea what's in store for him; I almost smirk.  But then I'd give away the secret.

"Great.  Thanks."  I pick up the Kinomoto file and leave, nearly running, as far away from that phone as I can possibly get.

___________________________________

Author's Note:  Sorry for the short chapter, I really need to write more; if only I didn't' have deadlines… Anyway, I hope you enjoyed; I think I'm writing a bit subpar, so excuse the horrible prose.  I'll fix it up during winter recess though. =)


	3. Photographs

Author's Note:  Phew! Finals are done…that means more time to write, or so I'd like to think. =P.  Not much to introduce in this chapter, a few more characters…some fun stuff.  Hardly seems serious…considering Sakura's kidnapped and all…maybe I just needed a break from drama.  I wanted this chapter to be longer, but I guess this series will be a lot of smaller chapters.  Thank you Smabbi-chan: it's an honor to have my little fic hosted.  *bows humbly* And to pokey: thanks for reading my stories, Angeldreamz: glad you like this, Syaoran's Blossom: I know, I know, but snookums was the only thing I could think of; in fact, I'm proud of it, ~~~~~~: thanks for the review.  Red Rose: and arigatou for reading my stories too, Purple Tomoyo: hmmm...still debating on myself how kawaii to make it, but it'll probably be very mushy, after the whole who's the kidnapper denouncement, Mabel: I know about the cursing, but he's not doing I much in the last two chapters; I think it's mostly the coffee. hehe, Love your story: what a vote of confidence.  Arigatou. mya: I rather agree; there's not enough AU stories, and I think CCS characters have the potential for all kinds of situations.

Disclaimer:  If CLAMP is a painfully thin college student with bags under his eyes, living on microwave delicacies, then I own CCS.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom

Chapter 3:  Photographs

I look up at the number, 5B; this must be the place.  I knock loudly, hearing my thuds echo from inside.  No sounds come closer, Daidouji's probably out.  I turn around to suddenly find myself face to face with a young woman, gray black hair streaming around her, intense violet eyes; she'd almost be beautiful if she didn't have a haggard look about her.  

Her voice sounds the way she looks, hoarse and exhausted.  "Who are you?

I thought the answer was pretty obvious, but upon looking down at myself I realized I'm not in uniform.  Something good from my recent promotion.  "I'm Li…from the Police."

She inhaled a quick breath, bottom lip quivering.   "Is it Sakura?  Did you something happen to her?"  She had her trembling hands gripped tightly on my shoulders.

"Yes, it's about her, but it's not…very bad."  As if being kidnapped wasn't bad; but Daidouji was standing there ready to die from grief any second.  

She took her hands from my shoulders and hastily wiped them across her eyes.  The key fitting into the lock, she seemed to compose herself.  "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be jumping to conclusions.  What would Eriol say?"  Who was Eriol now?  I just nod sympathetically.  "Come in."

The apartment was spotless, the kitchen on my right, linoleum floor shining, the counter tidy and organized.  Following her into the living room, I couldn't but feel shame.  It was immaculate, the couches at right angles to each other, coffee table with a fanned array of magazines, a strategically placed potted palm.  It was like some setup you'd see in a magazine; thinking about my own apartment which was a war zone compared to this, a few books flung here and there, some scattered clothes, dusty shelves.  "Um…nice apartment."

Daidouji looked around, her mouth curving up slightly.  "Yes, I had a good cleaning yesterday, you wouldn't believe what a slob Sakura is."  She shook her head in exasperation but suddenly coming back to the reason why I came.  "What is it about Sakura?"

Where to start?  "I got a phone call from her; she said she'd been kidnapped."  Maybe not the best approach, being direct and all, but there's nothing you can do to soften the blow.  Watching Daidouji however, I wished I found another approach.

Daidouji sat there shocked for quite a long time, emotions playing across her face, horror, anger, fear, all before she was finally able to ask.  "Is she okay?"

"Yes, she says she's fine; you didn't hear from her?"  

She shook her head with a frown.  "I was out with her family looking for her all day today.  If she called…"  She abruptly stood up and ran across the room, pushing a button on the phone.  There was a loud beep and a voice, familiar but different.

Sakura's voice drifted through the apartment, both me and Daidouji hanging on every word.  There was no hushed excitement, only a gentle soothing wave, collected and steady.  "I guess you're not in either; I tried home too, but they're not there.  Tomoyo, I know I have you worried, but I'm okay, really.  Please don't freak out, but I've been kidnapped.  I'm fine; he hasn't done anything to me.  It's dark here and I don't' know where I am, but everything will be fine.  I know it.  I'm going to call the police soon; I'll be back by the end of the week.  I promise."

Daidouji was staring at the machine, something like a cross between laughter and being horrified.  In the end, a small laugh came from her.  She must have caught my confused stare because she stopped suddenly.  "Sorry, I know it's really inappropriate, but did it sound she was kidnapped?  She's always like that in emergencies. Saying, 'Everything will be fine.'  How am I supposed to be that calm?"  She watched me expectantly, boring a hole into me.  "Do you know where she is?"

The answer was definitely no; I had no clue where she was.  But I couldn't disappoint her can I, and admit defeat?  Of course not.  So I muster up that police business-like tone and set about on an investigation of which I have no fucking idea where to start.  "No, but I'm in charge of the case now.  I'd like to see her room and have you answer a few questions."

She seemed to respond to my brisk tone, nodding immediately and leading me down the hallway to a door.  I paused on the threshold, suddenly self-conscious, as if my presence was ruining the atmosphere of the room, an intruder in a bright sunny bedroom.  My presence seemed to inhibit the joy that abounded from the walls, the dull yellow wallpaper, the flood of stuffed animals arching from the bed to the shelves to her desk, the warm sunlight filtering through sheer pink curtains.  Every now and then the childish atmosphere would be dispersed, something interestingly adult scattered among her old possessions, her diploma hung proudly on the wall, empty coffee mugs, very personal clothes, some that caused the heat to reach into my face.

Daidouji scowled, something off in her opinion.  "I told you she was a slob."  In fact, I appreciated the messiness, something homey and grounded about it.  Before I could stem my thoughts, she had already an armful of clothes, brushing crumbs off Sakura's desk into a wastepaper basket.  She hastily picked out a brown banana peel. "Ugh…how many times have I told her not to eat in her room?  What does she think a kitchen's for?"

I finally snapped back to my senses, the _officialness_ seeping into my actions.  With a restraining hand, I cautioned, "Please, Ms. Daidouji; her room may hold clues to who kidnapped her."

Daidouji dropped the heap of clothes in her hands immediately, something remnant of displeasure in her face.  "I know but…"  She sighed in resignation; distracted suddenly by the ring of the doorbell.  "That must be…"  She left the sentence trail off as she headed toward the door, leaving me alone in Sakura's bedroom.

I looked about, seriously doubting that fingerprint analysis would yield anything; how would you get a good set of fingerprints from stuffed animals.  I scanned the pictures, trying to find possible associations.  There was one of her as a young girl, maybe ten years old, hair twisting into bangs, smiling as if there were no tomorrow.  Then there was one of her older, decked in cap and gown, smiling again.  It was like Yamakazi; how does she do that without straining some muscle?  She stood beside two males, one very similar and older, a protective arm draped on her shoulder.  Her Otou-san?  The other man was slightly older, smirking at the camera.  Who was this?  Black hair, dark eyes, very different.  Boyfriend?  I peered into the frame scrutinizing the unknown man; I could beat him up.  I picked up the next photo, obscured by the first two, a posed photo unlike any I've ever seen before.  She was on a hill facing far off into the distance, the wind scattering petals through the air like a fragrant snow, wisps of her feathery hair dancing about her face, wound around her neck, her dress fluttering in the wind, her bare arms placed softly above her heart.  She must've looked directly at the camera, a coy smile on her lips, her intense green eyes making me uncomfortable, stirring feelings that were wholly foreign to me.  She almost pleaded with me in her gaze, 'find me.'

I looked up when Daidouji returned to the doorway arm in arm with some guy; Eriol I'm guessing?  She beamed as she announced him, as if her best friend hadn't been kidnapped at all.  "This is Eriol."

He smiled, but there was something behind it.  I couldn't put my finger on it, like he was planning something.  Maybe I'm just paranoid.  He addressed me familiarly as if I had been just another random acquaintance stopping by to chat at his girlfriend's house.  He noticed me with the frame still in my hand, something akin to a small smile on my face; I think.  "So I see you've developed a nice infatuation with Sakura?"

I didn't know how to respond, my face starting to heat up.  This just didn't happen.  Li Syaoran did not blush, and yet I was as red faced as a tomato, at least that was what the nearby mirror told me.  And just like that, one sentence out of his mouth, I hated him and his smug complacency.  "No; of course not.  I'm looking for possible suspects."  It sounded convincing enough, to me anyway, but apparently not to the couple standing in the doorway.

They exchanged a look before smiling identical sly smirks at me.  It was something out of a horror movie, where the monsters' eyes would glow red before they tear into you.  Daidouji spoke first.  "You wouldn't be the first you know.  I've known at least five men who've fallen in love with her at first sight.  She's rejected them all, but then again…"  The toothy smile showed itself again.  "you're cuter than all of them combined."

Hiragizawa widened his grin.  "Just like some modern fairy tale ne?  A prince to rescue the princess?"

By this point, I'm nuclear, much to the joy of those two…things.  "Do I need to remind you that Sakura's been kidnapped?"  That flipped her smile upside down; it even shut that self-satisfied boyfriend of hers up too.  And yet I felt bad, damn conscience.  "I assure you I'll try my best to keep her promise.  You will have her back home by the end of the week."  Something about this case, however, told me that would not happen.

_______________________________________

Author's Note:  Please review and tell me if I should do a chapter in Sakura's point of view.  Or would prefer I keep Syaoran's point of view.  Personally, I think I'd like to vary the points of view.  Heh heh, I know the dialogue sucks, but I just can't do it very well.  The next chapter's gonna come a little late, with the other series to write for…but it'll involve the different interviews.  You know what that means…Syaoran's first meeting with Touya.  *evil cackling, rubbing hands together*  this will be fun…


	4. The Family

Author's Note:  Thanks for your thoughts; I was thinking about just Syaoran's point of view this fic, but the more I think about it, you really do need Sakura's point of view.  But that's in the next chapter.  I think this fic needs some more humor don't you?  Or I need a break from writing heavy drama… This is a semi long chapter, maybe the rest will be long…probably not, seems too unbalanced though…*sticks out tongue* whatever.  Read and review please. =)

Firstly to **Sahmandah **(I'm not sure if there's something wrong with your computer or the server, but I didn't find any Chinese characters.  Gomen for you having a hard time reading my fics.  Thanks for trying anyway…)

**Aeris Gainsborough/Brenda:  **I'm very grateful for your reviews…thanks a lot.  Happy New Year!

An big appreciation to**:  Misty Showron, xINg ChEnG, AmiThest **(like the name), **Chibicherry **(arigatou gozaimasu)**, Laura, pokey** (I think I'll dedicate this chapter to you…)**, eternal innocence, Silex** (wait no more!)**, A Reader And A Fan **(*bows in gratitude*),** …, An Author Out Of Pen Names **(I'm not really that cool. =P),** Loper, BabyBlonde5333, Silver_Kat, **and** Kristen. ** 

This chapter will be dedicated to** pokey…**so very loyal and polite**. =)**

Disclaimer:  If I die I want to be reincarnated as a poison arrow frog…oh, yeah and I don't own CCS.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 4:  The Family

Night had fallen.  I'm back at my desk, the Kinomoto folder closed in front of me.  Continue or not?  If I passed it back to Naoko…but I promised Daidouji…  My contemplation is broken as someone snaps her fingers in front of my eyes.  "Yanagisawa?"

She looked slightly fed up; the half glare in her eye a warning not to provoke her.  "Who else?  I asked you where the Kinomoto folder is?"

I looked down, bringing the case to her hands; I guess I'm not continuing.  "I talked to the Daidouji girl and it doesn't look very promising."

Naoko looks at me quizzically.  "What are you talking about?"

Now she has me confused; what else were we talking about before?  "The Kinomoto case?"

She rolls her eyes.  "I knew _that_.  I mean isn't the case solved?"

"Solved?"  If solved meant just begun, then she'd be right.

She sighs in frustration.  You and me both.  "But you got a phone call from her."

And that means…?  "Yeah?"  Maybe this is just a bad dream, one of those backward talking ones that ends with some weird image like a dancing clown or something.  I look at an annoyed Naoko; this is definitely not a dream.

"So, didn't she show up?"

"No."  So that's what she thought.  "She called for help; she was kidnapped."  I watched in amusement as the many different emotions flickered over Naoko's face:  confusion, shock, irritation and finally seriousness.  

"I thought she showed up, and it was all finished."

I eye the folder in her hand; maybe I will be continuing.  "Well, you're not going to be able to sign this one off yet."

"I guess not, but I don't have time for this…some important guy got himself killed in the park today.  The chief's got me on the case; I can't drop it."  So there is a ray of light; perhaps she caught the anticipation in my eyes.  "You want it?"

I readily accept the case, careful not to seem too happy, though strangely I'm more elated than I think I should be.  "Sure, I've already done the preliminary work anyway."  

She shrugs, turning toward the door, pausing just before swinging open the glass.  "I bet she's pretty huh?"  I can hear her loud laughter echo in the room, sudden heat in my face.  How many people are against me today?  First Daidouji and that boyfriend of hers, then Naoko and then probably Yamakazi.  That reminds me…  I look around trying to find the smiling Takashi, only to be met with him, close faced and wholly unhappy.  

"Li!"  I'm already half way to the parking lot, his angry voice trailing behind me.  Looks like I owe him a few night shifts.

________________________________________

I'm turning the key in the lock, when the telephone rings from inside.  "Damn; hold on."  The keys are flung somewhere near the hall table, shoes abandoned halfway toward the kitchen.  I pick up the phone, leaning so far over the counter that I'm practically laying on it.  "Yes?"

The voice seems a bit taken back by my tone, but what do you expect when you're in an uncomfortable position barely home and without getting chance to exhale before the phone rings.  "Oh.  Should I call back?"  The voice, the same in Daidouji's apartment.

I allow myself a small smile; it just seemed too strange.  Kidnapped yet polite to the end.  "Kinomoto?  No, I just got home and you called and…"  I pull myself fully into the kitchen getting off the counter.

"Home?  This is your home phone number?"

Great.  The fourth time today I'm red.  "Sorry, I blurted out my home number when you asked, and you hung up so quickly, I didn't get the chance to correct myself."

"Oh…would you rather I call your work number?"

"No…it's okay.  I'm in charge of your case now anyway…"  I squash that little voice that tells me that's not the only reason I want her to call here.  "By the way, how do you call?  Your kidnapper's not that stupid to let you have a phone is he?"

She laughs, speaking with the same normal tone I heard at her apartment today.  "Your funny, you know that?"  Funny?  Not something people usually call me.  "Thanks for the laugh; I've been worrying about everyone's reaction.  How's Tomoyo and Touya?"

"Daidouji's worried sick, though you couldn't tell when she's with her _boyfriend_."  

She chuckles when I mention the word 'boyfriend,' distaste plain in my tone.  "I see you've met Eriol; he grows on you after a while."  I don't want him to grow on me; I want him to wipe that fucking grin off his face.  "And Touya and Otou-san?  How're they?"

"Wouldn't know.  I'm talking to your father tomorrow.  Who's Touya?"  Is this the black-haired guy in her photograph?

"He's my oni-san."  Brother?  "He's a bit…overprotective?  Don't think too badly of him.  If he gets angry or violent, it's just that he's worried about me."

Wonderful; I'm looking forward to tomorrow already.  "I won't."  I pull the case folder from my jacket; I should get overtime for this.  "I promised your friend Daidouji that I'd have you back by the end of the week.  Do you know who kidnapped you?  Can you describe him?"

She sighs into the phone.  "I don't think I know him; he's tall, Touya's height maybe, I didn't see anything else.  One minute I'm walking toward the bus station and the next I have something over my mouth.  And now…I'm just here."

I'm scribbling the notes, picturing the abduction in my mind.  Darkened street, unknown man, chloroform.  "Any idea where 'here' is?"

There's a rustling on her end, stopped suddenly with a thud and a 'hoe.'  What does 'hoe' mean?  Her voice comes back sounding embarrassed.  "Gomen, you can't see me shaking my head can you?"  My mouth is fighting a losing battle from grinning; this is certainly one of the more interesting cases I've been on.  "Um…it's dark here; there's no windows.  Sometimes when he opens the door, I hear sounds but I can't recognize them."

The pencil stops its writing; a few short sentences on the pad.  Not much to start on.  "Does he…want anything from you?"  I swallow the lump in my throat half fearing an answer in the affirmative.

"Want something?"  She sounds genuinely confused, pausing for a while before realization dawning on her.  "Oh.  No; thank Kami-sama.  I can't understand what he wants with me; he leaves food and goes without saying a word."

"And you haven't seen his face?  Does he wear a mask?"

"It's not like that; I think I'm in a sort of basement.  He stands at the top of the stairs, puts the food on the top step and leaves.  It's too dark to see his face; I've only got a candle and that…"  

She pauses in mid-sentence, something causing my stomach to drop.  "Is there something wrong?"

She speaks hurriedly like this morning.  "I think he's back; I have to go.  I'll call…um…same time next week?  Please tell my family I'm doing okay."  Again like this morning, the phone clicks before I can form some kind of reply.  

_________________________________________

It's bright; too fucking bright.  I open my eyes, the early sun streaming.  Rubbing my eyes, I try to lift myself out of bed, but I'm sore.  Sore from lack of sleep, not having slept until 3 at least.  All those ideas I've been thinking seem so far away now, each possibility over the Kinomoto case lost.  Another day…the coffee's scalding as it burns its way down my throat.  I pick up the notepad, ticking off the names in my head.  All these people:  Daidouji, her father, Touya, her employer…  Too many, too early.  The toast pops up from the toaster; I quickly stuff the hot starch into my mouth, jamming the key into the lock heading toward the elevator.  Where's the case folder?  Of course, the dining table, in my locked apartment.  Shit.  I'm finally on the elevator, having headed back to my apartment a few times for forgotten items.  My notes are glaring at me as the elevator moves downward.  First stop the station, and then…home.

__________________________________

I put myself down on the board; now I'm officially in charge of her case.  I carefully make my way to my desk, watching my back in case Yamakazi wants to thank me for yesterday.  On my desk is a slip of paper reading 'Turn around.'  No sooner do I twist myself around do I stare into the face of Takashi, grinning idiotically.  "Takashi, what's the matter?"

The smile remains on his face.  "Oh nothing.  Just wanted to say thanks for yesterday."  The trace of resentment laces his words, his grin breaking temporarily into a frown.  

I smirk sheepishly; I didn't mean to have him suffer on operator duty, or maybe I did, but now I feel sort of guilty.  "Oh yeah, sorry about that.  I guess I could've warned you huh?"

"No matter.  Actually I have to really thank you for taking my next two night shifts.  I think I can really use the break."

I raise an eyebrow.  "I didn't sign up for the next two nights."  He gives me a pointed look, a 'you owe me big' gaze.  I sighed in acquiescence.  "Oh yeah, it's nothing."

His mouth beams even more, satisfied.  "So what's on the board today?  You're on the Kinomoto case?"

"Yeah, Yanagisawa gave it to me; she's on some important case from the chief."  

"The Penguin Park case?  Yeah, I've been assigned to it too.  Some millionaire's kid got himself killed.  Probably some gang thing.  Give me an old-fashioned kidnapping any day over murder.  Hey, I'll trade cases with you."

My mind flashes back to yesterday night's conversation, fully realizing that was the first time I've genuinely smiled in a long time.  But doesn't mean anything.  "No thanks, I've already started on this case; I intend to finish it."  

He shrugs, turning as he hears the chief bellowing for him and Yanagisawa.  "Kami-sama, he's got something up his ass this morning.  Just because he has political connections to the millionaire doesn't mean we're all his puppets."  He heads down the hall disappearing into the office as I pick up my jacket, turning towards the door.

_______________________________________

I arrive in front of a small house; inviting and warm, the yellow of its walls comforting.  I ring the doorbell, hearing footsteps approaching, one set slow and steady another becoming louder and faster nearing the door.  Before I can think anymore, the door is flung open, and I'm hovering a few inches over the ground, having the life choked out of me.  Of course she was right; I see her brother before me, his hands around my collar hoisting me into the air.  He's strained, eyes rimmed with a red exhaustion.  "What the hell have you done with Sakura?!"

I fumble as best I can slowly losing the air I need to breath.  What a fucking sister complex.  I pull out my wallet flipping the badge in front of his face.  "I'm with the police; I'm in charge of your sister's case."

Surprisingly, he doesn't let go, instead opting to shake me.  "Then where the hell is she?"

I finally find the chance to bring my hands to my neck, prying off his death grip from my collar and returning myself to the ground.  "I don't know; I've just started the investigation."  He looks like he's about to strike me, the crazy bastard, but a restraining hand pulls on his shoulder. 

A similarly worn man steps out from behind Touya, easily recognizable as her father.  I pull out my pad business-like, ticking off two names.  "Ah, Mr. Kinomoto, I am Li Syaoran from the police.  I am in charge of Sakura's case.  If I could ask a few questions?"

He smiles kindly stepping aside, simultaneously dragging Touya back into the house.  "Please com in.  I'm very sorry for my son; he's very worried about Sakura as we all are."  He gives the brother a reproaching look.  "But he should learn not to let his emotions control him and jump to conclusions."

I cough strategically, straightening my tie, fixing my ravaged collar.  "Of course, I have only a few questions to ask."

He briefly nods, leading me through the hall into the comfortable interior, the smells of breakfast wafting in the air, the air clean yet heavy with living.  So this is home…

______________________________________

I settle into the couch, a cup of tea placed before me.  This is singularly the most unnerving experience I've had up to date.  A man smiling, the picture of hospitality with genuine concern for my comfort, the other glaring dangerously.  Ultimately, the latter began the conversation, without much tact I may add.

"Well?  Why are you here and not doing your job?"  

"Touya."  Fujitaka's voice snaps instantly.  "Be respectful."  He turns to me with an apologetic look and concern on his features.  "We're all just a little tired.  Sakura has never had us worried like this.  Is there anything we can do to help?"

Normally I'd be giving a fake smile, issuing reassuring words as the parent fumes or cries hysterically.  But this time, I find myself easily sympathizing with him; his words are true, no blame on his daughter, nor self-pity.  "I'm sure Daidouji has told you about Sakura's kidnapping."  The man nodded as I contrived to find the best way to tell him the details.  "I received a phone call yesterday from her; she wanted me to reassure you that she's doing well.  She also called Daidouji and this house as well, but received no answer."

Fujitaka seemed to digest the information, albeit greatly confused.  "Phone call?  But she's kidnapped…"

"I wondered the same thing myself, but I didn't get the chance to get an answer from her."

Touya rolls his eyes, exhaling with disgust.  "Smart."

I glare at him as if to set him on fire, already able to smell his burning flesh.  "Anyway, as I was saying, I'm here to ask a few questions to help in the investigation.  I'm trying to find possible suspects.  Is there anyone that may have had something against your daughter?"

Fujitaka shook his head, looking past me at something.  Turning around I follow his gaze to a photograph of a woman.  "Sakura's very much like her mother; no one could have ever disliked her.  She was too nice and understanding."

"Oh, does she have a boyfriend or any suitors?"

This time Touya spoke, finally without some anger directed at me.  "Boyfriend?  No.  Suitors?  Many.  But no one ever deserved her attention.  There was someone pursuing her recently, but she didn't tell me his name or much about him."

Fujitaka grinned lightly.  "Perhaps, Touya, that's because you scare off any boy interested in her."

Touya replied indignantly.  "Like I said, none of them deserved her attention.  I just helped take care of those who don't give up when they should have."

"Any particularly nasty suitors?"  My pencil hangs over the pad in anticipation only to be disappointed when they shake their heads no.  "Are you sure?"

The older man bows his head in defeat after scouring his memories for names.  "I'm very sorry, but she doesn't normally discuss that part of her life with us.  If you talk to Tomoyo I'm sure she'll be able to help you.  They're best friends."  I incline my head in agreement trying to escape the uncomfortable silence between us.

I get up walking briskly to the door, the day spread before me like a never-ending road.  I watch the two other men follow me, worry and concern in their faces.  "I promise you I will return her to you."  Something inside me, perhaps recognizing the impact she makes on those around her, speaks even louder in my head.  I _will_ return her.

___________________________________

Author's Note:  Originally this was supposed to have all the interviews, but I think it's better to separate them, a better introduction.  The next chapter though, is Sakura's point of view, so not a flashback…but interviews continue the chapter after that.  Next on the list…Tomoyo and Eriol or her employer and fellow waitresses?  Who do you think?  


	5. The Victim

Author's Notes:  Long time no update huh?  I write my fics in a pattern so when I was struggling with 'Slipping…' I had to put everything else on hold.  But this is only what?  Maybe around 3 weeks since the last chapter…not too bad I guess…but classes started again yesterday!  *anime sigh with white cloud out of mouth* but at least it's snowing here…looking to the bright side…  Okay this chapter's Sakura's point of view, so not really any big developments; gives some interesting background information though…

**Otaku-hime**:  Thanks a lot for your words…it really means a lot, especially when I get all into perfectionist mood…

To **Someone** (thank you, thank you….*11 minutes later* thanks a lot…I've been trying really hard to make my writing somewhat okay.) 

Thanks to **mya**, **pokey** (I think I agree with you about the employer…we need someone to piss Syaoran off…hint, hint), **A Dude Named Randy** (hmm…yes, Touya would be interesting, but if anyone's gonna kick ass in this fic, it'll be Naoko…), **Earthy**, **chibicherry**, **Final Fantasy Princess**, **xINg ChEnG**, **Ami*Thest** (yes, he'll do that in a later chapter, or something else may happen…*dramatic organ flourish*), **Loper**, **Misty Showron**, **An-Author-Out-Of-Pen-Names** (what a mouth full; if you keep writing, your style with improve…)

Arigato **Creatistar**:  I'll put off the award until I feel like I deserve it…sort of disappointed over how weak chapter 11 of 'When everything….' came out.  But I'm warning you….you better be typing IOD right now…*dark smile widens*

And now a super big dedication to both **Kavi-chan** and **Rhea-chan**.  You both pointed out that he could use a tracer; I totally forgot about that, so the plot yes could very well fail if I don't address it.  It'll be talked about in a later chapter…something I think that makes sense, but if it doesn't…humour me please?

Disclaimer:  This really makes me unhappy.  I do not own Cardcaptor Sakura.  CLAMP does.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 5:  The Victim

October 19 

It's dark, but then again, it's always dark.  I pick up the match by my right hand and strike it.  A little flame bursts to life and I try to light the stub of a candle I have before I burn my fingers.  The pale glow is all I've known of light for a while, months, maybe a year, it gets hard to keep track of days when your watch has stopped and there's no window.  

The room's large and open, not very crowded, empty really, like an unfinished project, walls half papered, some rickety furniture piled in one end, a few boxes stacked up high in the other.  A set of stairs leads upward to a door, the barrier to my freedom.  There's old lamps in here and outlets, just no light bulbs.  Darkness.  I sleep on a hard little bed, very musty like it hasn't been used for years.  It's a bit small too, more for a child to sleep on, but I found a way to curl up on the mattress underneath the light blanket and fall asleep every night, or whenever I'm tired.

I look around another time, the same surroundings I've had since I was put here so long ago.  Nothing's changed except for a few rearrangements I made, so I wouldn't trip over anything or stub my toes or break a bone.  There's a gaping wound in the wall where I thought I could escape, ground and scarred by hours of digging with a rusty screwdriver.  I gave that up when I realized it was solid bedrock around this room, probably the first suspicion I had this was a basement of sorts.  An empty plate sits on a small table in the center of the room, a patio chair pulled up to it, the remnants of lunch.  Always the same too, a bologna and cheese sandwich with a glass of milk, maybe a piece of fruit.  If that isn't torture I don't what is. 

The candle's light flickers for an instant, the flame's path illuminating the nearest corner, something small and rectangular laying carelessly on the carpet.  I go and pick it up, its familiar weight in my palm, my trusty little cell phone.  It's cracked after I threw it against the wall in a fit of frustration, not my most pretty moment I'll admit.  I doesn't matter now anyway; it's pointless to regret breaking the cell phone when the batteries had already failed.   I don't how many hours I searched through all these boxes down here for some kind of electrical device with the hope of finding a battery.  But in the end, there weren't any.  So here I am now, cut off, and I mean completely cut off, from life.  For how long?  Six months maybe?  

I stare blindly into the shadows, expecting to see a mysterious man step out from behind the pile of boxes, handing me some key to escape with.  No such luck, nothing emerges.  I lay my head down on the pillow, pulling a book from under the mattress, something I found early on in the one of the unpacked crates.  Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll; weird but pretty funny.  It's maybe the twentieth time I'm reading it, but what else is there to do?  My eyesight's a little worse but what do you expect reading by candlelight.  What time is it; I suspect night's come around; I'm a little hungry.  As if hearing my thoughts, there's a warning knock on the door.  I see the light shine through the crack between the door and the top of the steps.  Quickly, the book is replaced underneath me and I blow out the candle, the smell of smoke around me.  A moment later, the door opens, a dark figure silhouetted against the light.  He holds a tray, standing like giant, towering above me.  I strain my eyes to penetrate the overwhelming brightness and find some clue behind him.  All I can distinguish is a white wall, two switches in the center of it.  Big help.  He bends to place the tray down on the top step and turns to go.  I've long since given up trying to talk to him, having received no answers.  The door slides shut with a loud crack, the clicking of a lock into place.  

I trudge up the stairs, past the tray, turning the doorknob as I've done for every day since I've been here.  It won't turn, nothing new.  Anger sweeps me again.  Why can't I escape here?  Even breaking down the door wouldn't work.  How does someone as weak as me crash through a solid wooden door?  I take a seat on the stairs, looking disdainfully at the sandwich I know is there, though it's too dark to tell.  Picking up the tray I cautiously make my way down the stairs and prepare to have my little solitary, candlelit dinner.  I'm right.  The sandwich is there; bologna again, the same lettuce but a different cheese this time.  What variety.  Today I have grapes, seedless I hope at least.  The milk has spilled a little, a puddle forming around a box of matches and thick candle.  A new candle and box of matches…so today's Monday?  Another week then…  I pick up my dinner and munch monotonously on it, stopping every few bites to sip a little milk.  

___________________________________

Tray placed neatly back at the top of the steps, I pick up some scattered clothes from the bed and head to the bathroom.  A loose flannel shirt, a pair of worn corduroys, obviously men's clothes.  My work clothes have long since become thread bare, the white shirt turned gray, the black pants faded gray too.  I suppose I looked like a fashion victim after the first month, but then again, who was going to see me?  On another rummaging expedition into the boxes some time ago, I came across these old clothes, quite big on me, but who can I complain to?

I take the candle from the dining table and head over the far side of the room, stopping in front of an unstained door.  I enter and find myself in a pseudo bathroom, a shower, toilet, sink with no running water.  In the dim light I can make out my appearance in the mirror.  I'm still the same as I remember, no scars, no dark bags, no horrific bruises.  I eat, sleep and sometimes talk to myself.  My face is a little pale I guess, but what would you have expected if you hadn't seen daylight for so long?  My hair's grown out, not too long, still controllable but looking a big unmanaged.  Though I can't do anything about it right now, I must remind myself to make an appointment for a haircut when I'm rescued.  When I'm rescued…yes, it all hinges on that doesn't it?  The candle goes onto a soap dish over the sink, casting a dim glow in the room, little sparks reflected off the tiles and shower door.  My fingers find the button of my shirt…

_________________________________

I pause as I undress, a familiar building of anxiety in my chest.  There's times you can't control it, this horrible fear coming from the bottom of your stomach accompanied by questions like 'what does he want with me?' 'will I ever be found?'  But they only last a few seconds before I force myself to remember those who I know would not stop to find me.  Tomoyo, Oni-chan, Otou-san, Chiharu, Rika, even Syaoran.  I let my mind rest on him for a while.  It's been a long time since I've heard his voice, very long, definitely months.  He said he'd find me; he hasn't yet.  But I'm sure he will; he sounded determined.  I wonder why?  But thinking about him passes some of the really boring hours; what does he look like?  What's his personality?  He sounded rather nice if not a bit serious.  He laughed once, maybe he's not all work and no play…but that's all just guessing.  

The sounds of running water drums away the heavy silence, the rising steam filling the small room like a mist.  I step under the hot jets and want to soak, forcing some shampoo onto my hands and running them lazily through my tangled hair.  Not even conditioner.  He spares no expense.  Inhaling the soap's fragrance, I lean against the shower walls, the trails of water tracing my face and body.  Without making any movement, I let the soap run off me.  For this moment, I've taken a refuge from boredom, from fear, from frustration.  The invigorating water cascades around me and I forget everything.  I'm back in my apartment enjoying a refreshing shower, wondering when Tomoyo will get home.  I'm planning out what to make for dinner; I'm talking aimlessly to Kero like a child.  I'm singing along to a song on the radio taking sideways glances at the TV.  I'm getting dressed for work, riding on the bus, serving dinner, taking orders…the water turns colder.  I'm in the shower again.  Reluctantly, I turn off the shower, wrapping myself with a towel, dripping all over the floor.

_____________________________________

Alice's words waver for a second as the candle adjusts to a stray wind.  So she's after the rabbit is she?  I know what happens next; she falls and keeps falling.  I sigh under my breath, yet it echoes loudly in the empty room.  The novel returns to its hiding space, why I bother to conceal it I don't know.  He doesn't even come down here, or else he'd have known about my phone calls.  I move my hand to the nightstand, really an old desk), and pull open the topmost drawer.  I take out all my possessions to look at, my wallet, keys, some letters, a wristwatch.  Apparently he never bothered to search me.  I open my wallet letting a few stray pictures fall out.  I can't help but tear when I look at them, Tomoyo and me on a ferris wheel, oni-chan and otou-san at our summer cabin…

I unwillingly put them back, shutting the drawer silently.  I close my eyes for a minute feeling the silence fall around me, brushing me with an icy hand.  Curling myself into a ball and pulling the quilt to my chin, I let my eyes open and stare into the darkness.  I'm sleepy, but for a short moment I think I can see the stars, just long enough to hope that I'll be found.

__________________________________

Review please?  Next chapter will be Syaoran's interview with…the employer and fellow waitresses! 


	6. The Co-workers

Author's Notes:  Another chapter….Syaoran at Sakura's work.  The cast of characters continues to grow…  And please read and review; leave comments!  I  appreciate it.

Thanks to **SweetCard **(I'm afraid S+S meeting won't be for a bit…)**, LiTtO** **GyAl**, **Kavi-chan**, **Diane**, **Sailor Star Sakura**, **Tenshi no Kijutsu** (Wow…that's mighty high praise), **…,** **Final Fantasy Princess**, **SilverMistAngel**, **mya**, **devilbossomgirl**.

**Rhea-chan the great**:  you're vegginess is spreading…maybe it's my fault…I'll explain it later…look at the reviews for 'when everything….' You'll understand…

**Li Sakura**:  Helen!  School starts again?  And hey, HEY!  You're a wonderful writer, that little story about the kids was very good.  We all have different writing styles…I'm probably a horrible bore with all my details to some people…keep writing!

This chapter dedication will be to….**Silex**!   You've been so kind as to read my stories and you really gave me a lot of encouragement just by reading 'When everything…' when I began posting.  Arigato!

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 6:  The Co-workers 

March 24 

I push through the glass doors of Tsukimine Café, avoiding the stream of customers and employees, lost in a waltz of organized chaos.  Subdued whispers, manic laughing, the screaming of orders somewhere in the kitchen area.  The lunch rush.  My stomach growls as a steaming dish of noodles passes my vision.  But resolutely I remind myself:  I've got work to do.  Shaking my head to dispel the hope of a satisfying lunch, I maneuver myself over to the cashier, removing my notepad and taking down a few notes.  The dark haired girl at the register looks up from skimming her secret hidden magazine, pulling out her own pad.  "What would you like sir?"

I clear my throat, assuming that wonderfully official air of investigation.  The badge flashes its way across her face, and she nods silently and somewhat shocked.  "I'd like to talk with the manager please."

"Oh yes, of course."  She runs off, no doubt to find some bumbling stocky little man with a horrible attitude.  I groan inwardly, taking my eyes off the food, forcing myself from smelling that damning scent of coffee in the air.  A man suddenly appears in front of me, thin, tall, smiling and rather pleasant looking.  Maybe there's hope for today after all.  "Are you the manager of this café?"

He extends his hand smiling warmly, another one of _those_ people.  How can they keep their mouths like that?  "Yes, I'm Yoshiyuki Terada, the manager of Tsukimine Café.  Is there something I can help the police with?" 

"Is there somewhere we can talk quietly?"  His smile fades as the gravity of my voice strikes him.

"Of course."  He leads me through the maze of tables, past the kitchen where the sounds of sizzling echoes like static, turning away from the bathroom, down a dimmed hallway.  He opens his office, a cramped little cube with no windows, a sad pile of papers scattered about.  "I'm sorry about the mess; bills and such can get quite bad at the end of the month."

I nod with disinterest, scrutinizing his person.  He smiles yet he is obviously dissatisfied with something.  Maybe the café?  I'm not sure.  "That's not a problem."  I remain standing as he takes a seat, the chair squeaking under his weight.  "I'm investigating the kidnapping of Kinomoto Sakura.  She's a waitress of yours?"

He nods dumbly, brows furrowed in some unreadable emotion.  I can hear him whispering.  "That's why she didn't show up today…"  Heaving a sigh and placing a hand on his temple he looks up at me with something like devastation.  "How could…?"  I almost pity him, as if he lost a family member; why does she have this effect on everyone?  

"I know it's a great shock, but time is crucial in kidnapping cases.  I need to ask you a few questions."

"Yes, of course, but I don't know if I'll be much help.  I was poring over bills for most of yesterday night."

"That's alright; I can always ask the waitresses if they noticed anything."  I'm momentarily interested in an answer for something that shouldn't have to do with the case.  "What was she like?"

"Sakura?"  His face seemed to brighten immediately, lost in his own thoughts.  Was he one of her suitors?  "Sakura was like a daughter to me."  I guess not.  "She worked harder than anyone else I've ever seen, even in being a waitress.  No one works that hard for this kind of job; it's almost ridiculous to, but she did.  She respected others' feelings, and it sounds strange, but rooms start to feel alive when she's in them."  A sudden image of her cheery yellow room pops up in my vision, the unbounded joy running rampant in the air.  "Who would do this to her?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out.  Who was on very good terms with Sakura and was working yesterday night?"

He rummaged through a layer of papers, flapping white sheets scattering to the ground.  Triumphantly he holds up a pack of yellow cards, flipping furiously through them.  "Yesterday?  Rika and Chiharu.  Rika's on duty now; she's at the register.  Chiharu's due in…now actually.  Maybe she's already out there."

I thank him quickly, taking a brisk pace back to the restaurant.  Rika looks up from her magazine as I place myself before her.  "Can I talk to you about something?"

She nods gravely, her eyes taking a very shrewd glance at me.  "It's about Sakura isn't it?"

I open my mouth to question her, but she immediately pulls me toward a quiet corner, settling me into a seat.  She purses her mouth in a sign of worry before she breaks the silence.  "What's Jyung done to her?"  Jyung?  "Is she alright?"

I blink despite myself; who is this Jyung?  Should he be a suspect?  "Who is Jyung?" 

Her eyes widen in shock, grabbing my arm in the throe of some indistinguishable emotion.  "Oh, Jyung's no one.  What's wrong with Sakura?"

I press the issue, wanting to hear more of Jyung.  "She's been kidnapped; I wanted to know if there was anyone who hated her or had any reason to want to kidnap her."  I pause for the moment, letting Rika's eyes stare incredulously at me for a second.  "Who is Jyung?  He may be involved."

Almost reluctantly, she sighs and confesses.  "Jyung is one of the waiters here; when you didn't know who he was, I didn't want to cause any trouble for him.  As much as I don't like him, he doesn't deserve it."

I question myself inwardly, unable to understand her reasoning, but my train of thought passes to another matter.  "Still, you asked me if Jyung had done anything to Sakura.  Obviously, there was something that happened to make you think that he did."

She nods slowly, screwing up her eyes in concentration.  "It was weeks ago, although it sort of started much earlier than that."  I knit my brows in confusion.  "You see…hmm….well, Jyung started working here a couple of months back.  He developed feelings for Sakura, not very uncommon when you get to know her, but still…  I'm sure she tried to let him down gently, but I don't think he ever got it.  It was maybe three weeks ago.  I was taking out the trash and I heard them talking.  Sakura was saying something about how Jyung was nice and all, clearly a lie, and she didn't want to hurt him, but she didn't have the same feelings for him as he did her.  I was still behind the dumpster so I didn't see them, but I'm guessing he grabbed her or something cause she yelled out in pain.  I threw the trash into the dumpster and went to go see if Sakura was alright, but the conversation was already over, Jyung storming back inside.  I asked a dazed Sakura if everything was alright, but she didn't seem to hear me.  So when she didn't come in today and the police showed up…I don't know…I just thought maybe Jyung did something to her."

I look down at my pad, distorted and crushed in a death grip, my knuckles turning a dangerous white.  When did I start clenching my fist?  Loosening my hold, I jot down Jyung's name, asking the rest of my questions.  "Did she ever mention something about having enemies or someone bothering her?"

"Enemies?  Who would want to hurt Sakura; she was a saint for lack of a better word.  She's the kind of person you want to be, but can't."  The inflection of admiration was strong in Rika's words, Sakura's image in my mind taking on a brighter quality.  "What about boyfriends?  Suitors?"

She shakes her head.  "She didn't talk to me about that kind of personal matter; I don't think she had a boyfriend, but I can't say for certain.  For all I know, she could've been engaged…"  

An inexplicable pang stabs in my chest for a second.  "Did you see her leave yesterday night?"

"I don't think so; it was really busy here and I was waitressing so…  Chiharu could probably answer better; she was at the register last night."  She points out a busy woman circling around tables.

Mihara Chiharu, as my little pad tells me, stands in front of me, steadying herself, leaning on the back of a chair.  "She was kidnapped?  But, but why?"

I shrug my shoulders, inwardly the question irritating me to no end.  Why would anyone want to hurt someone so…I'm not sure…so kind?  I forcefully push back the mess of feelings and thoughts back into the deeper recesses of my mind, focusing back on Chiharu.  "I don't know; Rika said you saw her leave yesterday?"

She nods slightly.  "Yeah; it was at 11 when she clocked out."

"Does she drive home, walk, take the bus?"

She taps her pen distractedly on the veneered tabletop.  "The bus I think; she always said she had to hurry up so she could catch her ride home."

"Was there anything different about her yesterday?"

"I don't think so; she was normal, smiling, humming a little."

"Did you notice her with anyone either before or after she left?"

"I don't think so.  She was running around bringing out dishes and stuff during work; I saw her walk alone down the street through the door, but that was only for a split second.  There were a lot of customers last night."

"What was Sakura's relationship with Jyung?"  

"Jyung?  He was always flirting with her, but I don't think she ever took him seriously.  She tried to avoid him as much as possible; it was awkward.  Other than that, I don't know.  Was there something between them?"

"No."  The hint of vehement denial in my voice puzzles me deeply.  "Was Jyung working last night?"

"No, he's only part time.  He has the late night shift tonight if you want to talk to him, probably be here after ten or so."

"I'll do that.  Did Sakura ever say anything about someone hating her or having a grudge on her?"

"Hate her?"  Chiharu laughed.  "That's like hating the air; it's impossible."

"I see.  Did she ever say anything about a boyfriend or men bothering her?"

"She wasn't very forward with her personal life, but I got the feeling she was single.  Occasionally some guys would show up asking for her, but she never really talked to them."

I nod wearily, all the possibilities leading to dead ends.  "Thank you for your help; we'll do our best to find her."  How many times will I have to say that with this case?  It's like some horrible police cliché, a defense mechanism when things aren't going the right way.  I'm halfway out the door before I remember what my next stop is.  Hopefully Daidouji's alone this time, though my stomach churns a 'probably not.'  I turn back into the café, hanging my head, trying to brace myself for meeting _him_ again.  Rika looks at me weirdly, thinking I've got another question for her to answer.  In fact I do.  "Can I have a double espresso to go?"

____________________________________

Author's Notes: And the next chapter will be Tomoyo, Eriol and Jyung…I don't think Syaoran will be very happy…


	7. The First Suspect

Author's Notes:   Hi all!   I'm really sorry about not updating for a while; I was held up this week from writing by various tests and labs and papers…sometimes I swear if school is worth it…oh well, I'll just have to put up with it, until I win the lottery and bathe in my own self-indulgence…one can dream can't one?

Arigato to **Final Fantasy Princess** (I'm so, so sorry I forgot you; it'll never happen again), **Someone **(thanks for the kind words…)** Blue Phoenix** (I kept the cursing at a minimum…heh heh), **chibicherry** (you've been quiet lately…), **mookie** (I'll try to give him a clue; maybe he'll understand it, maybe not), **Silver Blossom**, **Sakuya**, **bronwyn** (Jyung's in this chapter), **mya** (he'll be slowing down very soon), **Silex** (thanks for sticking with the fic), **Diane** (the ends far off…very far off), **Ami*Thest **(it's been um…seven months?), **FlameSolo** (I love detective stories too…I just suck at writing them…*sweatdrop*), **Kavi-chan**, **Shadow Princess** (thanks, I would update more, but I'm really busy with school), **CreatiStar** aka **Chibipunker** (I'll do that, but that's a far way off…)

Dedicated to **Caoilfhionn**: Sorry about the no updating, this week was hell…with a side of purgatory…  You're words really did inflate my ego (lucking I had a chem prelim to bring me back down…).  I agree that Sakura could've attacked her abductor, but she doesn't have a violent nature; it probably never occurs to her.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 7:  The First Suspect

I grip my gun tightly, feeling some of the stress relieving itself as my fingers strive to break through stainless steel.  My teeth grit as the doorbell rings echoingly through the apartment.  A set of footfalls approached the door, my false hope rising, only to be dashed to pieces as a second, barely discernable muffled, but still present pattern of footsteps sound behind the original.  If Daidouji had known the thoughts circulating through my head, she wouldn't have been as surprised at she was at the fierceness of my glare.  But it wasn't at her, but rather through her, burrowing my heated look at her boyfriend, him smiling composedly like some fucking store display mannequin.  "Daidouji?  I'd like to ask you some questions."

Daidouji blinks before rapidly nodding and shuffling her feet backward, gesturing me in.  "Of course, come in."  I enter the museum like apartment, certain that nothing would be out of place in sight.  I blink despite myself at the state of the living room, clothes scattered about, magazines ravaged and left on the floor, papers flung every which direction.  Daidouji's voice comes forlornly from behind me, an apologetic note in her tone.  "It's a mess isn't it?  We've been scouring through Sakura's things in case there's something important."

Her quiet boyfriend pipes up, grinning like the Cheshire cat.  "It isn't a problem is it?  You didn't need her room to be dusted for fingerprints or anything?"

A little too late anyway.  "No, she was abducted somewhere on the street.  We won't need to test her room.  I have a few questions to ask."

Daidjouji nods in understanding, throwing a stack of papers and files off the couch and signaling me to sit.  "Please sit; would you like something to drink?"

My stomach objects as I remember swallowing that shot of double espresso outside the café.  "No, that's okay."  I sink deeper into the padded sofa, glad to be off my feet.  "I was interviewing Sakura's coworkers down at Tsukimine Café.  I thought you might be able to answer some questions I have."

Hiragizawa looks innocently upward, a faint smirk tracing his mouth.  "Already on the scent?  Haven't we been busy?"

My brows automatically furrow, face darkening over.  I ignore his comment, but feeling inwardly victorious as Daidouji shoots her boyfriend a venomous glare.  "I'm trying to gather possible suspects into who could have abducted Sakura.  Did she have any boyfriends or suitors?"

Daidouji's blank stare gives way to mischievousness for an instant, her flippant remark catching me off guard.  "Is this a professional or personal question?"

I choke on my own words, coughing and struggling for air.  I gasp out, "professional," futilely clearing my throat.  She smiles indulgently, like a mother to a lying child.  "It _is_ professional," I defend.  

"Sure it is."  I grind my teeth; it hurts but it still feels so good.  I keep my gaze on Daidouji, my back to her boyfriend lest he come up with another _witty_ remark.

"She had no boyfriend."  Daidouji picks up a frame from the cluttered coffee table, showing me the picture.  "She had a lot of guys after her.  Most of these guys were suitors, but she never went out with them."  I scrutinize the picture, obviously of years past, a group of girls and boys in high school cap and gown.  

I scribble illegibly across my notepad.  "Does she still talk to any of them?"

"No; we've all gone our separate ways.  I haven't seen anyone in this picture besides Sakura for years."

Well, this is getting me nowhere.  "Were there any suitors recently; anyone you think may have wanted to kidnap Sakura?"

"Recently?  She's turned a few guys down in the past couple of months.  She went on a few dates too, but nothing's ever come of them.  I really don't know who would want to hurt her."

"Do you know these guys' names?"

"No clue; they came and went; Sakura never talked about them."

I scan my interview notes, carefully placing emphasis on the next name.  "Did she ever mention a guy named Jyung?"

Daidouji blinks a few times, before assuming a puzzled expression.  "That waiter?  Sakura said he was bothering her for a date or something like that.  But that was a month ago; she said later everything was fine between them."

"Oh."  Saying I'm disappointed would be a grievous understatement.  "Did she ever say if Jyung hurt her in any way?"

"No, but Sakura's not really one to tell you if she's hurt.  She's too head strong sometimes, thinking she can do everything herself.  If only she'd let herself be helped or opened up more…"  Daidouji drifts off, staring into my face, seemingly focused on something behind my eyes.  "She did come back from work a few weeks ago with a nasty bruise on her arm.  She said she slammed into a table, but now that you think about it, it doesn't quite make sense.  I mean if she hit a table, she'd have a bruise on her leg or hip right?"

I nod quietly, a million thoughts running across my mind.  "Are you sure this was after work?"

Daidouji wavers hesitantly.  "It was weeks ago; I'm not sure.  I think so; I asked what happened, and she told me about the table and went to her room.  It must've been after work, I think."  She stopped abruptly.  "But you can't think that he…  He couldn't have…"

I get up, straightening stray wrinkles.  "That's what I'm going to find out.  Thank you for your time; contact me if you think of anything more definite."  I turn to go but find a pair of gleaming glasses blocking my way.

"Why don't you stay for lunch, Syaoran is it?"  Hiragizawa smiles engagingly, looking extremely casual and aloof.

"I'd rather not inconvenience you."  Like fucking hell that was the answer; I'd rather be stranded in the middle of a stampede than to have to sit and have lunch with those two.

"Oh, it's not a bother, is it Tomoyo?"  

Daidouji screws up her eyes thoughtfully, lips twitching with subdued merriment.  "Of course not; I'd like to find out how the case is going.  We could invite Touya too; he'd like to know how the case is going."

The lunatic brother?  Now I'm definitely going to pass.  "I'm very sorry, but I've still got other people to interview."  I detour around Hiragizawa's form, walking hurriedly to the door.  The knob gives a satisfying click as the door shuts behind me, a metal gate portioning me from potential disaster.  I sign in relief; I'm alone in the hall.  The truth is now I'm lost, not knowing what to do.  Each question leads me back to the starting point.  Where do I go next?

_____________________________________

I find myself looking at the many scribblings I've amassed, the original report thin and peeking out from underneath countless squares of paper.  I take another bite of a sandwich in front of me, grimacing as the bologna fills my mouth.  I link each page together, Sakura in the middle.  Branching outward, her family, her coworkers and Daidouji flanking her card.   Who are the suspects?  Jyung for one, old unknown dates, past classmates?  A whistling interrupts my thoughts.  I look up to see two half moon eyes.  "Yes?"

Yamakazi sits on the corner of my desk, his sudden weight throwing the papers into disarray.  He smiles pointlessly.  "Ready to work a double shift tonight?"

My promise comes crashing down on me.  "I can't take your shift tonight; I've got a suspect to interview tonight."

"A promise is a promise; besides, I'm going to need you to do some undercover work tonight.  I'm supposed to be getting information from the local drug dealers; seems the millionaire's kid was mixed up with drugs."

Fuck, fuck, fuck!  "I can't.  I have my own case to handle without having to go around in the dead of the night trying to look like some doped up addict."

Yamakazi grins.  "Why not?  You look like hell already."

Why did I ever think I could get any work done at the precinct?  "Fine!  I'll do your little job; if you'll stop bothering me!"

"Thanks.  We're almost done with the case, just a few loose ends to tie up and some arrests to make.  Did you know…"

"Yamakazi, Yanagisawa!"  A roar erupts from the chief's office, his florid face jutting from the doorframe.  "Get in here now!"

"Coming sir."  Yamakazi gives me a 'help me' look as he trudges into the office; I can't help myself.  I smirk gladly, my triumph ebbing away as I bend my head back down to the nasty sandwich and the displaced notes.

__________________________

I watch the man's figure closely, eyes skimming over my raised water glass.  Is this him?  A few tables murmur with hushed conversation, the candlelight throwing seductive shadows across the walls.  Mihara eyes me knowingly as she passes with plates of steaming food; she jerks her head slightly at the waiter, confirming my guess.  So it _is_ him.  I appraise him, informally dressed, walking with some kind of self-assurance.  He's bending over a table talking to the woman, his smile accompanied with sickeningly exaggerated arm gestures.  I mental roll my eyes; no wonder Sakura rejected him.  Mihara bumps into him deliberately as she passes him, interrupting his conversation to point me out.  He reluctantly pulls out his pad, leaving the woman behind as he approaches to take my order.

"What would you like this evening sir?"  His voice is edged with slight resentment; I smile smugly, putting down my menu and extracting my badge.

"I'm with the police; I'd like a few minutes of your time to answer some questions."

He stands uncertain for an instant before his face is hidden behind his casual smile again.  "Anything for the police."

Is it just me or am I destined to meet people I hate today?  I smile back, a bit too toothy for naturalness.  "I wanted to talk about Sakura."  Jyung starts slightly, quickly recovering himself.

"Yes?"

I think I'll take a different approach this time.  "Did you have an argument a few weeks ago that ended in you hurting her?"

Jyung's face loses its colour momentarily, but then darkening in anger.  "So that's what this is about.  I didn't touch the bitch!"

I ball my fist, the looming consequence of disciplinary action guiding my actions.  I grind out my commands through clenched teeth, careful to give nothing away to the staring customers.  "Sit down so you can answer my questions calmly."

He obeys, unwillingly dropping himself into the seat across from me.  He hisses vehemently.  "I swear I never touched her."

Like I believe him; where'd that bruise come from?  I pull out my pad.  "This is official; please state your full name."

"Tandori Jyung."

"I'm officer Li; I am currently investigating the kidnapping of Ms. Kinomoto."  Jyung stares incredulously back at me as if I'd grown some second head.  "I have gathered that you were seeking a relationship with her."

Jyung's face resumes its indifference.  "So what if I was.  She said no; I left it at that."  The conceit in his voice is evident, as if Sakura lost some great opportunity by turning him down.  

"I have someone who says that you kept pursuing her, that you got into an argument with her a few weeks ago."

"I may have; what's that got to do with your investigation?"

"Did you harm her?"

"No!  Wait a minute.  You think…"  He suddenly laughed, without humour, ridiculing the thought that he could be involved.  "I didn't kidnap her; I can't believe the city pays you to bother innocent people."

I urge to put my fist through his head; instead, I grip the pencil tighter, the thin wooden rod, snapping in two.  "Where were you the night before last?"

He rolls his eyes at my question.  "I was out with friends; from eight to morning.  You can just go ask them and get off my back."  He lists some people's names, getting up abruptly and looking condescendingly down at me.  "I'm actually working right now, so if that's all…"

I merely glare as he retreats back to the kitchen disappearing behind the swinging doors.  I sigh, vowing to arrest him somehow, fingering the bag at my feet unconsciously.

________________________________

My reflection in the mirrors tells me I _do_ look like hell, hair everywhere, exhaustion pulling at the corners of my eyes.  Still, I don't look enough like hell.  I run the water, matting my hair together into my head, changing into the torn rags of clothes from my bag, stuffing my casual clothes into the now empty bag.  The fluorescent bathroom lights glower down at me, shadowing my features grimly.  I look like a desperate junkie, perfect.  I rub my eyes; next time I'm going to be more careful of making promises.

________________________________

Author's Notes:  I forestalled studying for midterms for this chapter…I gotta go study now.  Next chapter:  Syaoran's little interlude dealing with drug dealers…and a little surprise.


	8. The Witness

Author's Notes:  Sorry it's been awhile, but it's been rather busy and suddenly got this bout of depression with harsh criticisms and probably failing my chemistry prelim.  Grr…  Anyway, sorry if this chapter doesn't really do anything for you; it's late, I'm forcing myself to write despite the urge to crawl up into a ball and sleep, and well, I'm just strained for ideas.  

Thanks to **kY** (that's too much praise for little old me), **Carla**, **CreatiStar** (that's um…not it), **Diane**, **Wing of Fire**, **jen z,** **Silex** (I have no idea how long this fic is going to be…), **Gihyou**, **Caoilfhionn** (have you updated 'into the gray?'), **Final Fantasy Princess**, **pokey**, **mya** (sorry about putting you in a twist).

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 8:  The Witness

I look over my shoulder, satisfied I'm far enough from the café to begin my work.  It's silent for the most part, a few pedestrians walking quickly past me, taking an extra step farther away from my form.  The random sounds of voices and cars echo down the street as I slump along, carefully measuring my gait, stumbling every other step, leaning against a building every now and then.  Some guy at the outer rim of a streetlight's illumination watches me keenly, like a predator looking for prey.  I force myself to walk with leaden feet, bringing me closer to the man.  A quick looks tells me he's probably the right person.  "N-nice night huh?"  I strain my voice to sound harsh and cracked.

The man smiles crooked, nodding absently, careful eyes noting the emptiness of the street, only the steady yellow street lamp keeping the complete darkness form invading.  "Yeah.  You look like you need help."

"Uh-huh; just a little pick me up, I guess."

Reaching into his jacket the man pulls a few small bags out, white powder, variously coloured pills.  "What're you looking for?"

"Thought I'd try something new today…maybe a little up-scale?  What'd that millionaire's kid like?"

"Him?"  The dealer randomly lifts a bag of three yellow-red pills.  "This is the best, if you're willing to pay that is…"

I fumble stupidly in my pockets taking out a mess of prepared crumpled bills, counting erratically out loud, inwardly already knowing exactly the amount.  "They that good?  I heard the kid ODed and died on them…."

"Nah; the kid was stupid and messed with the wrong gang.  All that money his pop had couldn't help him when he got too deep in debt."

"Oh, yeah.  I'll take them."  I hand over a wad of bills, getting some kick out of spending huge amounts of the department's money.  I stiffen as a person walks by us, his footsteps a little faster as he sees me stuff the bag of pills into my pocket.  I slur a little.  "Guy thinks I'd hurt him or somethin'; no one's really dangerous around here anyway…you never hear of shootings or kidnapping or crap on _this_ street…"  

"I guess; it's safe here, all the better for me."  The dealer elbows me with a knowing inference.  "Just some random stuff like purse snatchings or whatever.  Some girl got herself kidnapped a few days ago, but who cares?  No danger to me."

My head shoots up quickly.  "Girl?  Some junkie?"

"Nah, a waitress from the café, see her every night going to the bus stop."  The man hooks a thumb towards Tsukimine Café.  "Drugged and dragged off, right off into an alley.  Guy probably got a good fuck out of her."

A wave of nausea sweeps me.  "Y-Yeah probably, she nice to look at?"

"Good enough for what the guy wanted anyway…"

"The guy?  What's he look like?"  I curse myself at getting too forward in my excitement.

The dealer eyes me warily for a second.  "Why?  What's it to you?"

"Nothing I guess, just interested."  If I can keep this conversation going a little longer…

"You're don't know the guy do you?  Or fucking the girl are ya?"  His smile gets wider as he jabs me with an accusing finger.

"N-no."  I fumble through the words, sudden heat coming to my face.  Shit; this is not the time to be blushing like some schoolboy.  Hopefully, he'll think I'm just drunk.  "Don't know either of them, who gives a shit who they are, right?  Probably some big tall, dark guy drunk off his ass or something…"  

"Yeah, something like that."  Seeing the man's attitude toward me ice over, I take my advantage and leave before arousing suspicion.

___________________________________

As I'm at the door to my apartment complex, I give my head a good bang against the wall, the pain that shoots through me from the impact clearing away the extra baggage.  I grimace both in soreness and in annoyance at neither completing either of my objectives.  I forgot to get more information from the dealer as I promised Yamakazi I would, and then when I find an actual witness to my case, what do I do?  Ruin it completely by being too interested.  This is just fucking great.

The glaring light overhead jabs at my eyes as I stumble blindly across my living room, bag and wallet and keys thrown somewhere; I'll worry about them tomorrow.  The only solace I seek is my bed, falling forward into the mess of blankets and rumpled sheets.  I close my eyes and sleep dreamlessly, trying desperately to melt into the bed.

___________________________________

The precinct is strangely animated with cheerful faces and congratulatory smiles; maybe we finally got paid vacations…  I look around trying to find Yamakazi but for once he seems to be out of view.  I settle grudgingly to ask Hwang what the celebration's for.  "What's going on?"

Hwang's bird-like face lifts up, a ridiculous cross somewhere between a half moon and a crescent roll.  "Ah, you haven't heard?"

"No."

"Then perhaps I should let you find out for yourself; it's not a surprise if I tell you."

I sigh deeply; perhaps if I actually had my morning coffee I might've had more common sense than to try and talk to Hwang.  But no, stupid coffee maker decided to short circuit.   "Just tell me; I'm not in a fucking mood to be toyed with."

He looks with gleeful mock offense.  "By all means, your majesty.  It appears our beloved chief has been transferred; look how we grieve."

I raise my eyes to see a crowd of smiles, my own included.  God I hated the chief; he was quite possibly the biggest asshole I'd ever met.  Though after these couple of days, I'm beginning to reconsider that thought.  "I see; no wonder.  Who's the replacement?"  Trust me; I wouldn't be continuing this conversation except that I'm extremely curious and Hwang's the only one around to talk to without meeting some wordless stupid grin.

"Don't know, some woman they say."  Hwang gets on his feet, an act which seems to recall some odd nature special I saw on flamingos.  Shaking the thought out of my head, I look towards the chief's door, his large shadow darkening.  With a slam of the door, he faces us, face twisted into something of a self-satisfied smirk.  

"Well, well, well; it seems I'm being transferred to another precinct."  Several officers hide behind their hands, careful not to let their smiles show.  The chief pauses for a while, then adding in his usual sarcasm.  "I'm going to miss everyone here."  Without even attempting to look regretful, he picks up a large box at his feet and walks out of the building.  

I stand puzzled for a moment, the air silent before a ripple of laughter interrupts my thoughts.  Amidst the talk and chatter, a brisk rap against a desk resounds forcefully; a woman stands upright hand fisted and banging against the wood.  "May I have your attention?"  Her voice is menacingly cold, no nonsense.  "I'm the new chief; I hope to not have to pull seniority on anyone here."  She softens slightly, barely perceptible if you weren't trained to detect it.  "If you do your jobs well, I'll have no problem with you.  We'll get along well.  But if you aren't working up to your abilities, you'll find that I'm not one to be patient."  She turns swiftly around, entering her new office.  Just before the door closes, she leans outside to face the stunned audience.  "By the way, call me Kaho."

"Wow, how'd they find her?"  I nearly jump into the feet, Yamakazi appearing right behind me.  

I growl.  "Can't you give some warning before you pop up?"

He shakes his head emphatically.  "So how'd the little undercover work go?  Can we consider it a shut case?"  

I refuse to meet his eye, uncomfortable to the extreme.  "Not quite."

He grin falters, choosing his words carefully.  "What do you mean 'not quite'?"  

"Well…"  I tell him everything in a breath.  I finally look up to his face, a shade of red staining his features.  This can't be good.

"What?!"  Yamakazi looks around at the people staring quizzically at him.  He lowers his voice accordingly.  "How could you?  We've been getting all these stupid ultimatums from the commissioner and all these politicians.  It's an election year you know.  And we promised them a warrant really soon.  This is not like you; I trusted you'd have everything done perfectly."  He sighs like a disappointed parent.  "Things just got a lot harder; I assumed you got the info so we started rounding up dealers to find the one you talk to, but now…" He throws his hands up in confused frustration.  "Damn it; you didn't get anything out of him?"  I move to speak but he intercepts me, the damn psychic.  "Anything related to my case?"  

"No…he mentioned a gang but no names."  

"I see…I'll find a way to get this; maybe I can deal with Kaho."  He mumbled something very nasty under his breath, something that I'd rather not relate.  With a last look around, akin to a man heading down death row, he twists open the new chief's door and enters.  The click is loud.

"Shit!"  I kick the nearest object, toppling a trashcan, crumpled papers and food wrappers strew about.  "Shit!"  I'm not used to failure; I _have_ made mistakes before, I'm human, I'm allowed to.  But I've never let someone down before; I guess I always believed that I couldn't, stupid arrogance.  And now Yamakazi's going to get hell over this.  "Shit!"  I turn to aim another kick to the injured trashcan but find a person in its place.  "Where's the fucking can?"

Naoko folds her hands over her chest, her semi-smile disappearing under a veil of anger.  "Excuse me?"

"Nothing; sorry.  Just having an off day."

She glances me over, nodding sympathetically, or as sympathetic as she can get.  "I see; the case going bad?"

"Yeah, but there's other stuff…"   I'd rather not tell her but she gives me a prying look, one of stubbornness telling me I'd never be able to hold out against her.  I open my mouth to tell her but get interrupted as the Chief's voice booms out 'Syaoran Li'.  Great, this is just pop-a-rabbit-out-of-a-hat magnificent.  "Coming."  I sigh heavily, catching Naoko's upturned eyebrow and replying with a dismissive shake of the head.  "Don't ask."

Yamakazi's fidgeting with some object on Kaho's desk, his fingers tracing the imprint of her name plate, going over each letter one a time, 'Kaho Mizuki.'  "Syaoran?"

I lift my head to face the Chief, her blank stare betraying nothing.  "Yes, Chief Mizuki?"

She gives a pointed look to Yamakazi; he takes the hint and leaves me alone to face punishment.  Kaho sits down quickly, pulling her chair close to the desk, her elbows resting against the blotter.  "Please sit down."

I sit tensely waiting for her sentence.

"I've heard a lot about you Syaoran.  You have a reputation for being one of the best; you have countless performance evaluations that attest to your skills and success rate."  For a second, she smiles disarmingly, suddenly fading back into emotionlessness.  "You were entrusted with an undercover assignment last night.  Though I don't sanction the passing of responsibility off to other officers on which I have properly remanded Officer Yamakazi of, I still do expect a job completed."

I take the reprimand, trying to tell her that it wasn't Yamakazi's fault.  "With all due respect…"

She cuts me off, business-like but human, losing that roboticness she had been using.  "I know you want to defend your friend, but he was at fault too.  I don't like to focus on fault; we're all human, we make mistakes.  It's okay.  I won't say I'm not disappointed; I am.  This has set us back at least a week in our investigation which I assure you will not please the mayor and his political agenda.  However, this is something that is now my responsibility.  I will handle the commands that come from city hall, but I want you to know that I expect you to be at the best of your abilities because this case is prominent.  As much as I hate the politics of it all, this case is more than a simple murder, the kid's father holds a lot of power, especially in police funding.  Because of this, I want you to help Yamakazi and Yanagisawa to wrap this case up."

I blink, stunned.  But that would mean passing off my case…  "I already have a case, a kidnapping…"

"I know; I've seen the report.  I'd like you to continue that too, but I'm afraid this is one of those rare times where I'm forced to order you put that case on hold.  I don't want you to forget about it, but I do want you to put your energies to this millionaire's kid's case.  Do you understand?"  

I nod slowly, a little relieved I'm still in charge of the case, but dreadful that this is going to put me off at least a week.  "I-I understand.  But if I get any leads on the kidnapping case…"

She smiles, a real one.  "Follow them; you seem very attached to the case."  If she noticed my uncomfortable fidgeting, she doesn't say anything, fixing me with her eyes.  "You're a good cop Syaoran; I have trust that you'll find the kidnapper."  

I take her compliment at face value; she seems sincere enough, no political agendas that I can see.  I look up to the ceiling in relief, whispering some half prayer, half hope.  "I hope you're right…"

_____________________________________

Author's Notes:  I don't even know where the plot's going anymore, but I hope to keep continuing this.  Review please?  They'd make me feel like I wasn't a failure at this chapter…


	9. The Last Call

Author's Note: Okay, long, long break.  Finals and crap, but that's not an excuse.  We'll ignore the hiatus and pretend it never happened.  Instead, I'll try to get the chapters up quicker okay?

Thanks to **mya** (don't worry, I got both of your reviews), **Lakshmi**, **Silver-Cherry**, **Final Fantasy Princess**, **Anime** **Angel** **Eri**, **Tenshi** **no** **Kijustu**, **WaterDragon**, **Brat-Girl**, **BlueBlossom**, **Kandace**, **Wintermute** (yeah, I copped out on the witness. eh…), **jen z**, **Alice**, **nightshadow** (rather *cough*), **kY**, **The Star Angel**, **angel**, **Caoilfhionn**, **CreatiStar**, **Lanky_Legz**, **sandreline**.

Disclaimer:  *strained smile*  CCS is not mine.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 9:  The Last Call

April 1 

My brain feels like it'll melt by the end of the night.  I'm hunched over affidavits, interrogation reports, photos, forensic findings.  Apparently, the millionaire's case isn't coming as quick as I'd wished.  There's hope though that tonight is the end of it, when I can finally chuck this whole thing into the filing cabinet.  It's been a bone grinding week and everything's slowly coming together, close to issuing warrants.  But I'm still unsatisfied that underneath all these pages, there's another case waiting for me, one that I haven't looked at for a while.  Worse yet, the witness is gone, upped and fled when the police started rounding up dealers.   Call it another consequence of my stupidity.  Meanwhile, the leads dead end, nothing remotely near a clue.  But then again, I can't really say that seeing as I haven't had anything resembling 15 undisturbed minutes to think about the Kinomoto case.

I let my eyes fall back down to the pile of papers, lines and lines of alibis and accusations.  And wonderful Yamakazi with his 'you owe me big' look has forced me to sift through these papers and start setting up a timetable.  Picking up the pen I tick in 10 PM with a 'victim seen at Barney's (bar on 51st).' I stifle a yawn as the wall clock ticks past eleven. 

There's a sharp ring of the telephone from in front of me.  Throwing the papers to the floor, I dig underneath manila folders and photos to find the cordless.  It's on its third ring when I click it open.  "Yes?"

"Oh, hi."  The voice is hushed and careful.  I almost ask who it is before I remember her voice.  

Shit.  I completely forgot about her call this week.  All those precautions ready to be taken, tracers, recorders, all forgotten.  But I guess I'll get them next time…  "Oh, hi.  Is everything alright?"  She huffs a sigh and makes a sound like mmm-hmm.   "Is he gone?"

"No; he's up there, but I don't think he can hear me in the bathroom."  There's a gurgling noise in the background; she yelps in surprise.  "Gomen, accidentally flushed the toilet.  Heh heh."  

"Oh."  How would you respond to that?  Never mind.  "I want to ask a few questions."

"Sure.  That's why I'm calling you in the first place isn't it?"

"Can you describe your kidnapper any better this time?"  I reach to the linoleum and pick up a few scattered sheets of paper and a pencil.  

"No, his face is still in the dark, but there's some things about him that I've noticed.  Like he's always very neat, everything's where it should be."

"I'm not quite following."

"Well, just that all the meals come down the same way.  The milk is always in the upper left corner of the tray, and the sandwich is always exactly in the center, and the candle is always on the far right side."

"I see.  Any other examples?"

She pauses to think for a long time.  "Um, there were those times when he places the tray on the top step.  He'd stand up, look down at it and push it with his foot until it was exactly in the middle.  Just odd I thought at the time."

"Hmm.  Have you noticed anything that might tell you where you are?"

"No, not really.  I think one of the sounds is of a bell of some sort, but it might just be the doorbell.  I can't hear well down here.  But I _did_ see this picture on the wall behind him.  The white wall had a big framed picture of a sailboat, in pencil or something like that."

I nod to myself as I jot this down.  "Anything else?"

"Um, no, not really."

"That's okay; we can't expect you to know everything.  This information is very valuable."  I tap the face of my notepaper with the tip of the pencil.  "Oh, do you have any enemies that might have wanted to kidnap you?"

"Enemies?  Like who?"

"Jyung?"

She laughs; she actually laughs.  "Jyung?  Why would he do a thing like this?"

"Your friend Sasaki said he was after you.  Daidouji said she saw a bruise on your arm after an argument you had with him."

"So he was after me for a date.  And he got a little too pushy, and he grabbed me too hard, but it wasn't anything big.  He's just a jerk.  Besides, I don't think my kidnapper's him.  Jyung's just not the type to do something like this."

Well that's one suspect off the list, more like the only suspect.  "Is there anyone else you can think of that may have done this to you?"

"Not really. No one.  And I'm almost sure I've never met the guy before…"

This just isn't my day.  "Oh."

She hears the disappointment in my voice.  "I'm guessing there aren't many leads huh?"

"Frankly, no.  From what you're saying this doesn't make sense."

"But what if this doesn't make sense to us, but makes sense to the kidnapper?"

I have no idea what she's talking about.  "You lost me."

"I mean…I'm not explaining too well am I?  Um…  I meant what if the guy's crazy or something…it'd make sense to kidnap me in his mind, but not in ours right?"

"It's possible; it's definitely possible."  The more I think about it, the more it seems the answer, but my instincts tell me not to jump to conclusions.  "I think it's worth investigating."

"Yeah…"  She trails off as we leap into an awkward stalemate.  "Um…"  She brightens.  "Guess what?"

I roll my eyes.  "What?"

"It's my birthday today."

"Oh, happy birthday."  

"Well, don't sound too enthusiastic."

"Sorry; it's just I find by the time you're over 21 you shouldn't celebrate birthdays anymore.  Besides, you're sitting in the basement of Kami-sama knows who."

"Well, doesn't that make me feel like dancing?  You're no fun, all grown up and stuff.  I'm 25 now and still…"  There's a quick beep on the line; I look over to my call waiting.  No one.  "Oh crap, it's my battery.  It's…"  The line disconnects.

I stare at the phone for a minute before realizing that the only link between us is severed.  I don't know quite what to think.  She might call back, she might not.  And I haven't gotten anything really useful out of it.  The phone rings again and I snatch it from its rest.  "Sakura?"

Yamakazi's voice comes from the other end.  "Who?"

"Uh, no one.  What went wrong now?"

"Pessimist.  Just checking up.  How's the time schedule going?"

I groan, looking with annoyance at the disturbed papers all over the floor.  "Getting there, probably another hour or so."

"Just don't forget."

"I won't.  I'd be finished now if it weren't for interruptions."  I cough implyingly but he remains painfully oblivious.

"You know the Chief's planning to put in overtime pay?"  I make some acknowledging sound, a cross between a grunt and 'ah.'  "I told Naoko it was time we got extra money but she started talking about the case again.  Sometimes I wonder if she's even capable of having fun."  I repeat the sound again at the pause.  "Are you listening to me Syaoran?"  Silence.  "Remember you promised to take all of my weekend shifts right?"  Another grunt finds its way into the phone. "And all my midnight shifts too right?"  

I look up from the reports.  "Hmm?  Sorry; I've didn't hear that last part."

"Oh, no problem.  You just promised to take all my weekend and midnight shifts."

"What?  I didn't do anything of the sort."

He laughs and somehow I'm sure he's rolling his eyes.  "Yeah, yeah, whatever.  You can get back to your work.  We'll work something out in the morning.  Maybe something that involves public humiliation…"  He hangs up

I find myself saying 'the hell we will' into the dial tone.  Sometimes I wonder what goes on in his head.  But I can only shake myself awake and start picking up the reports.  I look longingly at the broken coffee machine, jumping up to rip through my cabinets for freeze dried caffeine.  

______________________________________

The morning's a horrible display of nervous tension, the murmur of officers right outside the precinct doors.  The fruits of my labour, the timetables have been sent down to the court pending warrants.  Chief Mizuki's silhouette paces across her distorted glass screen back and forth, probably for the four hundredth time in the past two hours.  "Ohayo."  I look up at Yamakazi's beaming face, full of early morning cheer.

"What's going on?  You look like the cat that swallowed the canary."

He grins even harder, taking a candy bar from his shirt pocket and munching loudly.  With his mouth overflowing of nougat, I struggle to hear his words.  "Mmm…this…case."

"Swallow.  Then speak.  Just an idea."

He closes his mouth and gulps loudly, throat taking down a mouthful of chocolate.  "I said, I'm finally done with this case."

I remain as unimpassioned as ever.  "So what?  I'm done with this case too.  You don't see me grinning like an idiot."

He gives me a half glare.  "Quiet you.  I don't need your rain cloud."  

I scowl darkly.  "Whatever; it's only one case."

He points his finger at me striking his 'oh yeah' pose.  "You wouldn't understand; you haven't been through the two hour 'why this case is so important speech' and the 'it's your duty to work till morning' lecture.  But then he smiles suddenly.  "But it's all over now, all over."

A part of me wonders if there's something in his morning coffee.  "Yeah, wonderful."  I keep digging around my desk landing on the pitifully little scribbled sheet I took last night.  "Hey, where are the wanted criminals profiles?"  I look up to find Yamakazi's nowhere in sight, true to his here-one-minute, gone-the-next fashion.  "And, I'm talking to myself.  Great."

A throat-clearing cough.  "Yeah, that's a sign that you need a vacation."  

I turn even more around cursing the cheapness of the department to make us sit in non-swivel chairs.  I drop my mouth open as Naoko regards me clad in a Hawaiian shirt of all things.  Hawaiian?  It's like seeing a nun in a monkey suit.  "Uh…nice choice of clothes."

She gives a strained smile, signifying her outrageously good mood.  "Shut up; I'm on vacation as of this morning.  A month of glorious rest."  

Lucky bitch.  "Oh; I suppose you're going to Hawaii?"

"Nah; just somewhere tropical.  Close.  Haven't decided yet.  Sun, sea and screwdrivers.  Perfect."  She gives a short 'ta' before striding to her desk.

I take a long look around just to make sure this is my world and I haven't suddenly found myself in some alternate universe.  But everything's more or less as it was yesterday.  A courier walks through the door, dropping a few folded slips of paper onto the operators' desk.  Loud shuffling footsteps sound as a dozen officers swing through the door into their cars.  The warrants are here.  I allow myself a triumphant smile before forcing myself to get onto my new or rather old case.  Now where's the profile binder?

_________________________________________________

The lamplight is dim in the night, records room empty around me.  Each page brings me no closer.  Suspects are always possible but are they probable?  As it's going, I've got no likely suspects, and a page full of maybes.   I suppose there _is_ consolation that I get overtime now.  Yeah, right.  I scan through the various headings, none seemingly quite right.  Letter bombers, serial rapists, stalkers…  I jot down the names of the more 'crazy' (a psychiatrist probably just had a heart attack) ones, ready to go looking for their case folders.  Maybe I can take a quick hour nap or something.  I let my head slump against the desk.  Someone shakes me wake into mid-morning chaos, somewhere off the bustle of officers and journalists.  I groan a sleepy "What?"

The reporter grabs my arm, dragging me down the hallways, throwing me in front of the black unblinking eye of a camera.  "Officer Li, what do you have to say about the mysterious letter?"

Blink.  "Wha…?"  Another hand pulls me from my interrogation and pulls me into Chief Mizuki's office.  Maybe this is just some horrible side effect of coffee withdrawal.  I pinch myself.  Nope, still awake.  "What's…?"

Kaho seats me in the seat opposite her, taking her own cushion.  "Syaoran; this may be an important clue, but I don't want you to talk to journalists just yet.  It could still be a fake."

Or maybe this is some strange part of an alien abduction.  "What's a fake?"

She pulls a disbelieving look.  "You really don't know?"

"Know what?"

"The letter."

"I got that; the reporter was asking about it.  What _is_ this 'mysterious letter'?"

"I can't believe you haven't heard.  Where have you been all morning?"

"Records room…asleep."  I refuse to make eye contact.

If she weren't so composed, she may have just slipped out of her seat.  "Just read this."  She hastily thrusts me an evidence bag with a sheet of white paper inside.

I skim the letter briefly and I'm suddenly awake, slumber haze gone.  I read it again in case my eyes were deceiving me, but it's still the same.  "Holy crap,"  I breathe.

_____________________________________________

Author's Notes:  So you'll get to know what the letter's about next chapter, though I'm sure you can guess it already…


	10. The Letter

Author's Notes:  This fic's been haunting me and I think I've got a handle on what I'm doing again.  Go me!  If you recall last time I said I'd try to get these up faster but ff.net went down so…  Anyway, here's hoping to keeping my promises. And I'm crafting my plot twist very carefully now.

Arigato to **mya**, **saKura^silver**, **KayJuli** (I have to say I love 'The Power of Two Hearts'), **kY**, **Silex**, **Rhea** (*cough* your agreement *cough*), **nightshadow**, **chibicherry**, **reveileb maerdyad** (I'll try for longer chapters if I can), **Tenshi no Kijutsu**, **The Great One**, **Kitty Neko**.

This chapter is dedicated to **Silly*Niecy**:  I haven't heard from you in while.  Wow.  You just didn't wait to get through this whole fic.  I'm glad you've got a suspect list up; there're some interesting ideas you bring up.  By the way, I like poison dart frogs; they kill you if you eat them, sorta like last revenge type thing.  Anyway, thanks for blearing your eyes late at night to read it.

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 10:  The Letter

The media are bloodthirsty when they smell award wining journalism or at least a really, really good public interest story.  Well they hit the jackpot that morning.  The letter was published the next morning, luckily embedded a few pages back of the front page.  The front pages were taken up by a conspiratorial public official accused of corruption.  Kami-sama bless the weakness of human nature.  However, it wasn't by any means unnoticed.  Reporters kept jamming up my office phone, following me around.  

Invasion of privacy I can partially handle, but having Touya Kinomoto threaten me over the phone and then at his home was probably the equivalent of an unanaesthetized root canal.  Watching him stomp up and down the living room, spouting off the most venomous things he could think off, accusing me of not doing my job, echoing each word of that stupid letter, I began to wonder that perhaps he might have kidnapped her.  Then I laughed at myself, careful to keep a straight face as he continued yell and shake the house by its foundation.

I find myself placating him with meaningless "The media's unstoppable.  We told them we had no comment."

Of course in Touya fashion he flings me the copy of the newspaper, shouting to the high heavens.  "Then how the hell do you explain this?"

I scan over the short little article, tracing along the words.  "They must've found out somehow.  I didn't have anything to do with it, I'm sure."

He snatches up the gray paper from my hand and starts reading.  "Dear Police, I hope this letter finds you well.  It's awfully boring around Tomoeda these days.  So what you do say to a friendly game?  The prize?  Sakura Kinomoto.  Sounds fun doesn't it?  I'll give you two weeks to prepare.  I'll make the first move.  Don't worry; I won't keep you waiting."  He finishes with a sneer and throws the paper again at my face.  "What the hell do you say to that?"

I'm barely able to keep my patience and prevent my fist from smashing itself satisfyingly into his face.  "I'm telling you; we're trying to trace the letter now.  We're police, not psychics."

He starts to lurch toward me but his father makes a move to quiet him.  Fujitaka shakes his head.  "No Touya, this doesn't solve anything."  He looks years older from when I last saw him.  "This is all crazy isn't it?  Her disappearance, the letter.  It's all mad."  

I nod.  "There may be a truth in that.  We're looking into the files of the criminally disturbed.  We may be able to find a clue."  I take a quick look at Touya, inwardly fuming on the adjacent sofa.  "And as much as I hate to say it, we may have to wait for his first move."

As I predicted, Touya leaps off the couch, face squeezed hard into a ball of fire.  "What?!  Are you insane?"

I raise my voice.  "What we've observed with criminals like this kind is that they are very self-assured that they'll get away with whatever they did.  And in many cases, they make careless mistakes that lead us to them."

He isn't comforted and neither am I.  "What about Sakura?!  So we let him have her for what, another month, another year, hoping the guy makes a stupid mistake?"

I sigh heavily, myself getting up out of the armchair.  "No, of course not.  But you have to understand we can't make things pop up out of thin air.  I'm certainly not giving up on the case, but it takes time.  You're being unreasonable when you keep demanding that I magically find her as if I could just close my eyes and know where she was."

Luckily the doorbell rings and he stomps off to answer the door.  I shake my head exasperatedly and bid a hasty goodbye to Fujitaka.  "I know it seems like nothing's happening, but we're trying our best.  I'll contact you if anything comes up.  And don't talk to the media; the kidnapper's probably living off his public exposure."  I nod my head goodbye and make my way to the door.  Touya's talking to two shadows.  I'm a couple feet away when I make out, with excruciating horror that it's Daidouji and her boyfriend.  I shudder involuntarily and shuffle quickly to the door, giving a muffled 'hmph' of acknowledgement.  

A disembodied 'where's he going?' drifts pass me but I'm in my car in a second and driving down the street before I can catch sight of the boyfriend's stupid grin.

__________________________________________________

A week's elapsed since the letter.  Kaho's put a lot of the precinct to help locate the potential suspects, and the other half to deal with the reporters.  We haven't got much done, but we've eliminated various people.  I'm on the phone getting more and more annoyed as I'm trying to explain the situation to some woman.  "Mrs. Hanaka, we just want to talk with your son.  No, no, he's not in trouble; we just want to know where he was March 22.  Yes, yes, I realize that's quite a while ago, but if you can just tell us where he is…"

A slip of paper is deposited in front of me.  'Hanaka arrested March 20 for disorderly conduct.  Released March 22.'  I sigh and hang up abruptly on the woman, and tick off another name.  I flip through the next five pages of recent parolees, wanted criminals, suspects.  I grope around for my coffee mug, but land on top of someone's hand.  

"Feeling friendly?"  Hwang rolls his eyes above me. 

I jerk my hand away, reminding myself to scrub my fingers with bleach when I get home.  "What do you want?"

He smiles falsely.  "The chief thinks I can help in your case."  I snort.  "Besides I've got your forensic analyses on the letter."

"And?"

He plops onto my desk.  "Nothing.  Prints on the envelope from the mailman and a post office worker.  No prints on the letter itself, common letter paper, no foreign fibers.  Mailed from downtown, stamped from the post office on 1st avenue, mailed on March 30."

"Great.  Very helpful," I say sarcastically.  I make a move of dismissal but another shadow bears down behind down.  I twist my head back and stare up at Chief Mizuki.  

She has her blank face on, hands crossed over her chest.  "Mr. Li, pulling overtime?  Can you see me in my office in fifteen minutes?"

I nod and she walks off.  Hwang's still on my desk, sitting like some masterless puppet.  "Why are you still here?"

He shrugs, fiddling with my penholder.  The sound of teeth grinding is loud in my head.  "No reason."  Finally after a strained silence of minutes and my glaring he leaps to his feet and disappears back into the lobby.

It's a gift he has for being able to annoy others so easily.  Just a gesture and you hate his guts.  This time I find my coffee cup, the cold and bitter liquid like motor oil down my throat.  I pick up the clipboard and start to go down the list again, my hand inching toward the phone.  I catch a sight of my watch and curse; I'm supposed to meet with Kaho now.

_____________________________________________

Kaho's hunched over her desk, magnifying glass in hand when I enter.  She looks up distractedly and motions me over.  "Take a look at this.  See anything interesting?"

On her desk is the kidnapper's letter and a singed and holed fragment of paper.  The burned paper had a sample of printing, straight, precise capitals and even professional spacing.  Both sheets, I realize belatedly have almost identical handwriting except for some slight blurring on the damaged fragment.  "They're the same."

She nods.  "That's what our handwriting expert tells us.  We think this guy's your kidnapper."

There's a surge of hope but it disappears in the wake of her grave face.  "Let me guess.  We don't know who this guy is."

"No.  He's some maniac that sends letter bombs.  The national security force has been looking for him for nearly a year.  In fact, the last Chief put Hwang on the case when one of bombs showed up in Tomoeda a few months back."

I remembered the incident; the unopened package in city hall.  It was the sensation of the time.  "Hwang?"

"Exactly.  He noticed the similarity in the letters, and with the corroboration of our handwriting expert, we think this guy may have kidnapped Ms. Kinomoto.  And that's why I'm partnering you with Hwang."

I feel my insides twisting themselves into vicious knots, my lungs seizing themselves.  I cringe at the thought of having to see Hwang's bird face every day.  "You've got to be kidding me.  There's no way in hell I'm working with that asshole."

Any semblance of good nature drains out of Mizuki's face, replaced by a deadly hostility.  "I don't care what you think Mr. Li.  Our goal is to bring Ms. Kinomoto back to her family safe, not make sure each of our detectives is _happy_.  You will be working with Hwang because he may have useful information…that is unless you want to step off the case?"

She perfectly knows I'd refuse to give up, and I grudgingly say "Understood."  I leave the office and make my way to Hwang's desk.  He's not there of course.  Why would he be?  "Yamakazi, where's Hwang?"

Takashi stops midstep through the precinct doors and turns to face me.  "Hwang?  He's gone home, just like I'm doing now."  He disappears through the doors into the night whistling.

I almost laugh in frustration, but instead ball my hands into fists and shake them in the air.  I upped myself with caffeine ready for working into the morning and now I'm left at a dead end because Hwang needs his beauty sleep?  Maybe I could pick the lock to his desk…

______________________________________________

A clipping from the newspaper lays under the round circle of light from a desk lamp.  The man scans over the article's contents and laughs to himself.  "Fools."  He bends back down over a white sheet of paper and various rulers.  His gloved hand takes up a ballpoint pen and starts to carefully scratch straight strokes up and down.  He finishes a 'N' and sits back to lets the ink dry.  Scrutinizing the letter for an extended moment he smiles satisfactorily and covers the paper with a piece of plastic wrap.  He shuts off the lamp and the only sound in the darkness is the smack of surgical gloves being snapped off.  

_____________________________________________

I knock hesitantly on the glass of the door, hoping that there'd be someone in.  A muffled 'yes?' comes from the other side.  I twist the knob and open the door to find myself in a stuffy, dim, musty office.  It almost has a horror movie feel.  The man at the desk looks up, his face distorted and comically arrayed by thick glasses and some kind of mini binocular type lens on the bridge of his nose.  "Uh, hi.  Are you the person that worked on the Kinomoto letter?"

He takes off his 'glasses' and rubs his eyes.  "Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to ask you about the letter.  I wanted to know if you could tell me how the person wrote it."

He nods and turns to his computer, clicking a few keys and motioning me over.  The screen is filled with two windows, both writing samples side by side.  I plead to myself that he doesn't start spouting off professional jargon.  He points to the first letter.  "See this?  See how straight these lines are?  He probably used a ruler.  And these angles?  They're 90, 60, 45 and 30, almost exactly.  Probably using an architect's T square and a triangle."  He moves over to another letter.  "But you see these curves?  They're all freeform.  Your suspect's got very good coordination and penmanship.  I'd rule out a doctor."  He laughs at his own joke and I force myself to smile a little. 

I thank him quickly and escape the room back to my desk before some bloodthirsty monster can jump out from the shadows.  I've gotten as far as I can today so I decide to go.  Maybe I'll think of something at home.

________________________________________________

Author's Notes:  The next chapter's the first move.  And maybe a guest appearance by Hirigazawa.  =)


	11. The First Move

Author's Note:  Ooh, the game's afoot.  I like it; everyone's guessing already.  I'm thinking of a big plot twist a few chapters ahead.  *grinning wickedly*  But for now, enjoy the game.

Thanks to **mya**, **The Great One** (You mean Eriol's job?  How about a piss-off-Syaoran-er.  Of course, I know who the kidnapper is. *getting defensive* it's a surprise), **Elley**, **KayJuli**, **Kitty Neko**, **Silly*Niecy** (trot, trot), **Yutai** (*shrugs* my mouth's zipped), **bishonen lovah**, **Rhea** (coughagreementcough).

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 11:  The Opening Move

April 17 

I'm squinting my eyes down at my suspect list, all scribbled over with lines and circles and checks, looking like an unemployed worker's rendered help wanted pages.  I'm down to the last page and the phone stares overheatedly back at me.  It's been two weeks since the madman's first letter and today's the deadline.  Half the precinct's jumpy with anticipation, giving nervous sideways glances at each telephone ring, every letter that is distributed, every person who walks in for help.  

Hwang's been hanging around and I've been forced to talk with him.  I used to think his attitude was just for the sake of annoying people, but I've discovered that its completely natural, the sneering condescending arrogance.  He actually goes out of his way to be frustrating.

He knows more about the letter bomber than I do, and doesn't let me forget it.  Always some subtle way to tell me.  Right now, he's perched at his desk (Kaho moved him opposite me two days ago) drumming a pencil and watching me with his stupid gaze.  "Just waiting…"

I hush him with a glare as I reach for the phone to investigate the next name.

"Still with the list?  I would've thought your police instincts should've told you to put some more time tracking down this mad bomber."

I 'yes, yes' into the phone, and slam it down onto its cradle and cross off another name.  "Fuck off Hwang; why don't you take the initiative, considering this is the guy you haven't caught after how many months of investigation?"  He shuts up, offended and finding no way to answer me, and I barely contain a superior smirk.

"Sir?!"  The on duty operator is running down the aisle, fast approaching our desks.

"Yes?"

"There's a bomb threat called in from the downtown library, the depository on third."

I nearly topple my mug in my haste to jump out of my chair.  "What's the status?"  

"Ticking, sir.  They found it on a bench inside fifteen minutes ago.  The bomb disposal unit's on the way."

I quickly snatch at my coat, barely registering Hwang as he follows.  "And the scene?"

"They're still evacuating the people."

I nod as I run through the doors and head for the car.  Once Hwang's in the other seat, we speed off downtown in a show of sirens and flashing lights.  We don't talk as I'm rushing down avenues, slowly recognizing the congestion pattern of police cars and standby paramedics.  A fire engine rests a few yards off too.   I stop the car on the other rim of the commotion and get out, shoving my way through the gathering passersby while using my badge to get the on guard officers let me pass.   "Where are we at?"

The policeman pushes some reporters back, smacking away a few microphones, before he turns to acknowledge my presence.  "They've just finished evacuating the building.  We've gotten the building's gas and electricity shut off.  The bomb squad's five minutes away."

"Okay.  We'll just have to wait."  I see Hwang on the other side of the semi circle, talking to people in suits, government agents probably.  The faint call of sirens might be the bomb disposal unit.  But they come too late…

It's chaos when the bomb explodes, unexpectedly rumbling and bursting out of the library in the breath of fire and debris.  The force knocks over some police officers that stood too close as the brick and dust fly everywhere.  I stabilize myself from falling over by gripping a police barricade, ears ringing with the aftermath of the bomb.  The area's flooded with smoke and screams as I try to get my bearings straight.  Limbs and people fly everywhere around me, running and panicking, the other police officers equally as dazed and confused.  I squint hard at the building and can make out small isolated fires inside the library hallway and the charred and cracked front of the building.  The glass doors are now only metal frames with jagged glass lining.

I finally find myself gulping fresh air a few feet from my previous position.  Six firemen are dragging their hose toward the building.  I stoop to calm my nerves down amidst the raining debris.

Half an hour later, the street's cleared of civilians and I'm surveying the damage.  Despite the flames and force of the explosion, the bomb wasn't too bad, in terms of doing structural damage anyway.  If anyone had actually opened the package, however, their head would probably be over in the next block.  "Is it safe to go in yet?"

The police chief stops talking on his radio and turns to me.  "What?"

"Is it safe to go in yet?"

"Sure, sure.  It's a bit wet, but there's no serious damage to the building."

I sweep a glance at the thick layer of stone and rock littering the front steps, but start to approach the building cautiously.  There's the smell of smoke, and water rains in frustrating droplets from the ceiling.  The hallway walls are scorched, a few of them having their drywall ripped right out.  The board ceiling tiles are sodden and sagging with the weight of the water.  Hwang and the two government officials are cordoning off an area to my right, a section of particularly bad damage and filled with wood pieces.  "Is this where the explosion occurred?"

Hwang turns away, rolling his eyes.  "No, we're just taping this section off for the fun of it."

That telltale sign of an impending headache burns somewhere at my temples.  "Fuck off, Hwang."  I decide to address one of the government agents, barring that they aren't complete pricks.  "I'm Detective Li; I have a case I think this madman may be responsible for."

The taller of the two men nods in my direction.  "Too bad we couldn't get to it before it exploded."

At their feet are the remnants of the bench and a heap of half singed paper bits.  "Any clue left behind?"

"No, looks pretty much destroyed.  Worker says it was a wrapped up like a birthday present.  Thought someone left it behind by accident so she went to go pick it up.  Then she heard it ticking and called the police.  Probably dropped off…"  He takes a look at his watch and a moment to calculate.  "An hour and a half ago."

"No note?"

"Usually is, but probably completely destroyed in the blast."  They turn back around and start to discuss among themselves.

Hwang has his arms crossed over his chest.  "Dead end."

I grudgingly realize he's right and head back to the car.

____________________________________________________

Two days have passed and I glare despairingly at the rows of reporters in the waiting room.  Police representatives are trying desperately to repel them with 'no comment' without success.  Kaho's pacing up and down her office, occasionally looking over me and Hwang.  "Well?"

I pick up the evidence bag and glance at the letter.  "Dated two days ago; mailed across town.  No prints."

"Great.  You do realize this is going to end up on the front page of the newspapers tomorrow?  First a bombing and then a follow up note?  We'll be swarmed with even more reporters."  I eye her worried as she continues to wear a rut into the concrete floor.  The mayor must really be on her back.  "Any idea what he's talking about?"

The straight capitals stare back at me.  'Couldn't start a game without fireworks could we?  We'll start out easy.  You have the next move.  Two weeks exactly.  Professor Plum in the kitchen with the knife.'  "Clue."

"How appropriate.  But what does it mean?"

"Something literal probably."

Kaho arches an eyebrow.  "Plum?"

"I don't know; it doesn't make much sense."

Hwang leans back in his chair, finger pressed together in a ridiculous attempt at looking intelligent.  "Kitchen and knife may represent restaurant.  How about one that serves something with plums."

I roll my eyes.  "Yeah, so we what?  Put an officer in every restaurant that serves plum in the entire city?"

Kaho shakes her head.  "It's too time consuming.  Besides, we don't have enough officers to even cover half of the city's restaurants.  We don't even know what the letter really means.  For all it could be, it might be about a Professor who likes plums."  She dismisses us with a hasty 'go' and a threat of not telling reporters anything unless we want to lose our tongues.

_________________________________________________

I lift my head from the bombing report finding the tall government agent looking down at me.  He drops a thick file onto the desk, impassive as ever.  "My office has decided that you would prove useful in our investigation.  This is a copy of our files on the bomber."

My hands are already skimming across the manila folder, ready to pry through the endless leads that could possibly be hidden in it.  "Thank you; this is much appreciated."

He nods curtly, beginning to walk away before throwing back, "You are to meet with us tomorrow in our field office.  We have left instructions with Chief Mizuki.  You are expected to cooperate fully."

I scowl partly, shaking off the irritation of procedure and immediately start to flip through the many pages in the folder.  There are photographs of the bombing locations, some scorched, some untouched and pristine, photocopies of retrieved scraps of handwriting, burned and ripped.  Copies of field notes and psychological profiles appear every now and then, appended to photos and bios of the victims and some potential suspects.  Their names too, have been crossed off and added to and circled.

I turn to the psychological profile and skim the list for an idea of who I'm up against.  'Male probably 25-35, may be incredibly neat by the meticulousness of his lettering, may hold grudge against society for reasons unknown.  However, there is indication of upset against government institutions.'

The next page describes the second letter bomb, a package shipped like a Christmas package, neatly wrapped and bowed.  The victim was a twenty eight year old woman, a genetic researcher at the local University.

The next victim was a fifty-year-old man, a clerk for the local branch of the revenue agency.  Bomb disguised in plain paper wrapping.  Portion of inside letter found two feet from the body, half burned and smeared from water damage.

An unopened briefcase confiscated at Tomoeda city hall.  No letter included.

The list goes on, a nine month spree which fits a strict pattern.  Each attack came a month exactly from the other, this one right on schedule.  My stomach tells me I'm hungry but I'm not even a quarter of the way through skimming the file, much less knowing it front to back.  I sip at the bitter coffee and settle deeper into the chair, going through the mess of eyewitness accounts, victim profiles and crime scene forensics.

___________________________________________________

The room is big and open, a wall of glass facing outward, a giant oval conference table in the center.  I mindlessly try to flatten what I know is desk hair, fidgeting in suit and tie while watching the assemblage of men and women gather at the opposite end of the table.  There are seven of them, probably the supervisors and chiefs, all more bureaucrat and politician than law enforcement.  The two government agents are sitting to my right, completely immobile with routine.

One of the women, gray hair pinned neatly into a bun, clad in power business suit starts off the meeting.  "You have reason to believe that the bomber has a connection to a kidnapping case of yours, Mr. Li?"

"Yes, ma'am.  There are remarkable similarities between the letter obtained claiming responsibility for my kidnapping case and those of the bomber."

The door opens hurried, Hwang stepping through, disheveled and sheepish, a 'gomen' on his lips.  He takes the seat to my left, quickly trying to wipe his wry grin off his face.  

I shake my head irritated and continue.  "The use of the strict angles in both of these letters suggests a connection.  A follow up letter to the last bombing claims responsibility and matches that of the one that claims responsibility for Ms. Kinomoto's kidnapping."

The man on the far side of the woman nods.  "I see; there certainly is a strong implication here.  He has never shown this attempt at communication with law enforcement.  Even Mr. Hanaka agrees."

A bald man adjusts his glasses.  "Er yes.  His actions are somewhat different than his usual routine.  He has never openly contacted the police nor resorted to kidnapping as a means to gloat.  This doesn't fit his original M.O.  However…"  Mr. Hanaka leans forward, dropping his voice lower.  "It may also mean that his psychological state has changed, taken a more dangerous path.  He may be becoming even more dangerous."

I tensed.  "Is he violent?"

"Before, I would say no.  Letter bombing tends to be a crime associated with those that are meek and seek to find an outlet for their grievances by far removed violent acts.  But as I said before, if he has kidnapped Ms. Kinomoto and planning to lead the police in a chase, he may have started to shed his quiet personality.  As times goes on and the police can't find him, he may ultimately gain enough tenacity to explore violent behaviour."

The heavyset man in the center of the other directors abruptly stands up.  "This is why we have designated this case to the top of our priority list.  Mr. Li, you will provide us with information about the bomber and we will do the same.  You will meet weekly with our agents."  The man cleared his throat.  "This man is dangerous; work as hard as you can."  The other directors rose with him, all exiting from the far door.  

I look to my right at the suited agents.  "So when's our first meeting?"

The tall one straightens his identification tag.  "This was it.  We will meet here next week.  Information will be sent to Chief Mizuki."  With that he and his partner strode out the door leaving me alone with Hwang.

"Now don't pout Syaoran, it's not very policeman-like."

I let out a ragged breath between my teeth and stand up.  "Fuck off."  I walk quickly through the mazelike halls, finally stopping in front of the elevators.  I can see Hwang's metallic reflection off the elevator door, his face a mask of indifference.  He doesn't really understand the situation; he doesn't have a family breathing down your neck to save their daughter.  And he doesn't understand that a few weeks could be the difference between finding a daughter or a corpse.  To him, it's just another case.  The doors slide open and I punch in 'B' impatiently.  I still have a whole folder to finish going through…

_______________________________________________

Author's Notes:  The next chapter's going to be sort of fun.  And yummy.  I miss Clue; I haven't played in such a long time.


	12. Professor Plum

Author's Notes:  Wow…so many reviews.  A lot of arigatos to everyone who're pushing me to get this finished, though the end's quite a bit far away.  School's started again so bear with me as I try to desperately piece together the few next chapters.  Am taking too many credits and have too much homework so I may slack off a bit.  I'll really try to get these chapters up as quickly as I can.  I've got the next chapter for 'Slipping…' done and ready to it, but 'Going Native' is on hiatus for a bit.  Anyway, yummy chapter.

Thanks to **Kitty Neko**, **Luna** (Sakura's cell ran out of power), **KanbiAme**, **MoonlightGoddess**, **The Great One** (maybe…maybe again…=P), **Setsuna** (I think the story's about half done right now), **Cherry Wolf**, **tina**, **Final Fantasy Princess**, **cherry-princess** (hehe, you're obsessed), **Silly*Niecy** (I know!  But I made it so the books weren't harmed…), **lilum-star**, **chibicherry** (you've been gone so long), **Pink Cherry Blossom**, **mya** (fun?  I like surprise twists *wicked smile*), **bishonen lovah** (yeah, Clue's going to be around for a few more chapters), **nightshadow** (not yet), **ImMeEmmi** (that's one of my favourite reviews ever), **shazaoblossom**, **setsuna** (gomen gomen.  It's been a really bad week…)

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 12:  Professor Plum

It's something that nags at me, the way the advertisement keeps staring back at me, plastered over a full spread in the newspaper.  'The Taste of Tomoeda.'  It's only a silly festival, a once a year thing with booths and people and activities.  But there's something wrong with it; it's just absolutely perfect.  Throngs of people, millions of distractions, the kind of anonymity that any criminal would want.  

Today's the day the letter indicated and Kaho's got everyone on duty, even recalling Noako back from her vacation.  I make a mental note not to run into her anytime soon.  We're stationed everywhere there's a possibility.  Restaurants that use plums, universities, factories that handle plums, any store with the word 'plum' in its name…and the festival.

I almost swallowed my pride and begged Mizuki to place me on duty there.  But instead, I'm sipping coffee out of a porcelain cup, nestled unobtrusively in a corner of a five star restaurant.  A fresco overhead smiles down at me with the quality that all expensive restaurants have as if saying, 'Enjoy the view while we screw you out of your money.'  Apparently this restaurant boasts the best plum tart in all of Japan.  I've tried it; they're not lying, though all that goodness comes at a hefty price.  But then again, I get it on the house as I'm guarding their posh establishment from the unwanted and uncivilized intrusion of a serial bomber.  It would be highly inappropriate and 'looked down upon.'  

And yet, my fingers are itching to be rid of these long coat sleeves, this tie that binds my throat, the air of unimpeachable respectability I have to ooze.  The lunch rush has come, the busy movement of the waiters, the formally attired customers with the presence of mind to look exactly the same as the person next to them.  All I can think is how unfair this is.

Yamakazi got an assignment to the festival, holding guard at the park's south entrance and I'm stuck here.  The manager is approaching me again, for what must be the tenth time in half an hour.  He walks with a sickeningly quiet gait, almost limping fashionably towards me.  He speaks in soft, demure, respectful tones, the kind that seeps subservience.  "If you could Li-san, we would appreciate if you would move to the bar.  We have some very frequent clients who wish to be seated at this table."

I curse softly under my breath, too low for him to hear.   I return a pulled back smile.  "I would be glad to oblige you, but I cannot survey the entire restaurant from the bar."

He gives a deeply offended look, frowning in an overbearingly disapproving manner.  "You have to understand Li-san…"

I sigh hard and stand up, cutting off the long speech on his lips.   I straighten my clothes as I walk to the bar, taking a seat on a high leather stool.  How I would like to be at the park right now…  The customers all just sit there, sipping, chewing, looking haughty and doing nothing, and I'm stuck here just watching them.  I look down at my watch and note with frustration that the festival's just started.  Slowly, I find myself leaning toward the door, deftly hopping off the stool and leisurely strolling past the doors.  Just a smoke break… a little breather…

And no one stops me, or even notices me.  I'm suddenly under the bright sky and standing on the curb, waving a taxi and flinging off the suit jacket off my shoulders.  The cell phone's out before the driven can even start down the street.  "Hwang?"  I cast away the obligatory snide remark he makes from the other side.  "Anything happen?  How's Kinomoto-sensei?"

"He's in class; I'm watching him right now.  In fact…"

"Good."  I hang up and quickly dial up Yamakazi.  It rings nearly five times before he comes on the line.  There's this thing in his voice that tells me he's laughing or at least grinning on the end.  Where does it come from?  "Yamakazi?"

"Yeah?"  There's a rustle and muffled voices and then scattered girlish giggles.  

"Yamakazi?!"

His voice drifts back again.  "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Silence, another bout of giggles.  "Huh?"

"What…the hell…are you doing?"  The taxi takes a dangerous swerve and I slam hard into the door, sucking in a hissing pained breath.

"Maybe I should be asking what you're doing?"  I can almost hear his eyebrows wiggling.

"Baka.  How's the festival going?"

"It's going great.  There's this act where this guy swallows…"

"Yamakazi!  I meant if there was anything suspicious."

"Relax, breathe.  There's nothing going on.  It's all A-OK."  A few voices, too low to make out, a warble in the background before there's a scratchy, crackling sound in the phone and the line goes dead.

I scowl at the phone, suddenly hugely resentful.  And this is guy that Mizuki puts at the festival?  The driver knocks on the plastic partition and points to the approaching park.  I signal to the west entrance and get out of the cab, handing him the money.  As the taxi speeds away, I take in the mess that comes with all festivals.  Balloons everywhere, people too, all laughing and talking.  Children are screaming and running all over the place, dodging around the chairs and stands and signs.

No wonder Yamakazi was so happy to get this assignment.  There's food everywhere, rows and rows of vendors, selling anything from hot dogs to bowls of noodles.  The quiet sizzle of glistening steaks, drizzled sundaes with mountains of whipped cream, simmering thick stews of potatoes and meat, rolls of sushi boxed neatly and packed on a bed of ice.  

The temptation's intense as those around me are smacking their lips, sinking their teeth into free, delicious food.  Bakery samples of hot steaming breads and buns, the wafting aroma of ground coffee, jams on toast, bittersweet chocolates cooling on a nearby rack.  "Would you like a sample sir?"

I look down at a small child, a platter of round formed chocolates in her hands.  Something inside warns me that I'm duty, but it's the pull of the dark brown, glistening candy that involuntarily reaches my hand out and touches the cool shell.  It's a short trip from the platter to my mouth.  The candy's roundness and smoothness disintegrate into a rough, sticky intense gummy chocolate, clinging and catching between my teeth.  And when I bite into the mass, it spills a hidden wave of cold, liquid raspberry-cocoa liqueur, filling the back of my throat with a sweet bitterness so strong that it floods my nose and all I can smell as an overwhelming wave of chocolate and fruit and brandy.  Choking off my senses, all I know is the chocolate and the way it leaves my mouth cold and tingling.

When I finally swallow the candy, the little girl looks up and smiles.  "Good mister?"

I nod almost dazed and go along my way, completely confused as to where I was going a second earlier.  Something about a plum I think.  There's a loud peel of bells up ahead, signaling some cooking competition between the chefs of the four major five star restaurants in Tomoeda.  But my mind's cleared and I renew my mission to find Yamakazi, easily skirting around the developing crowd.

It seems impossible but the crowds get thicker as I go farther into the park.  All the natural views that the park boasts have been choked out by people and food and trash.  The giant arch of the north entrance looms above me and I try to find Yamakazi in the mess of people and police tape.  

I finally spot him standing under a tree, talking amicably to four or five girls.  I can already tell by his outsized gestures that he's telling one of his stories again.  I inch closer quietly, backing up toward him under the guise of a civilian.

"And there he was, gun in hand, in a dead end.  I told him to freeze but he didn't listen.  And then he fired two shots…"  Dramatic pause.  Then four or five voices gasping and urging him to continue.  "Two shots.  Thankfully they just barely missed me.  I shot back and got him in the leg.  I put the cuffs on him, picked up the money bag and waited for reinforcements."  He bathed in the resulting awed 'wows' and 'you're so braves' that were coming from the thunderstruck girls.  He's got to be kidding me.

I clear my throat loudly.  "You mean the bank robbery last year ne, Yamakazi?  Tell me if I'm wrong, but I seem to recall you losing the criminal in a dead end only to have Noako finally shoot him in the leg as he ran down the next sidestreet…"  There's absolute silence, then the swift movement of girls rapidly brushing by me and disappearing into the crowd, faces clouded over by a righteous anger.

Yamakazi glares at me, his face finally without a hint of that stupid grin.  "What'd you do that for?"

"Hmm?  You're on duty, and you're telling tall tales to an audience of girls?  Hmm…  What _is_ wrong with this picture?"

He only scowls and slowly trudges back to the entrance gates.  I shake my head and slowly push my way back into the crowd, scanning the passersby.  The impossibility the situation rises up to meet me as I watch.  The mess of people, the different indiscriminate faces, the seemingly coagulated smear of decorations, the roar of hundreds of voices talking all at once.

There's a quick tap on my back.  I turn around, ready to tell whoever it is to 'fuck off', but I'm stunned silent by the double atrocity standing before me. 

Hiragizawa smiles, latched onto the arm of Daidouji.  Towering over them is Touya glowering down like a rain cloud.  The boyfriend speaks first in that slightly mocking tone of his.  "Konnichi wa, Li-san."  Touya merely grunts an acknowledgement of my existence.  Oh how I'm blessed…

"I'm on duty."  I strain to give the message as clearly and politely as I can.  The last thing Mizuki needs is the mayor in an uproar about rude cops.

Touya's scowl deepens, folding his arms over his chest.  "Yeah, hard at work I see."

I return the glare, already balling my fists.  "At least I'm doing something instead of blaming everyone else.  What a good onni-san you are, letting your own sister get kidnapped."

Huge mistake, right at the moment when those words came out.  He yanks me by the collar, bring his face down to mine and I can see the dark circles, the unhealthy yellow tinge to his skin.  He hisses fiercely.  "Listen, you fucking brat.  Don't you dare think you know anything about me.  You're supposed to be finding Sakura, not being some sarcastic little prat.  Do your job or I'll…"  He stops abruptly, flicking a sideways look to his right, and drops me back down. 

The man at his side has gray hair and glasses and seems to be tugging at the lunatic's sleeve.  What a fucking nutcase.  "Touya…" warns the gray haired man.  Touya fumes silently, muttering almost silent curses under his breath.  "I have to apologize for Touya; he has a very short temper and with everything…"

I nod slightly, watching the gray haired man smile with one of those disarming, goofy smiles that makes my skin crawl.  He takes a big bite of a slice of cake in his hand, almost swallowing it without chewing.  He offers me a piece.  "It's quite good; it's a plum cake.  I've got some plum gummies too if you want any."  He laughs just how he smiles, sort of a gentle quality but still a little too brightly for my tastes.  "Actually I think I put that plum stand out of business."

I look at the outstretched hand, brimming with food.  "No thanks ____"

"Oh, Yukito.  Are you a friend of Tomoyo's?"

"No.  I'm actually in charge of Sakura's case."

His face darkens appreciably and he says something softly under his breath that I barely catch.  "I still can't believe that this happened to her…"  I block out the rest of what he says.  Something starts to bother me, like a half forgotten bit of information that doesn't seem to have any relevance.  I can see his lips move, but the only sounds I hear is my own voice rapidly going through my head, the quick half sentences and mental checks.  

And then my eyes travel to his hand again, the napkin and wrapped candies peeking out, glistening in the sunshine. It's like a strange moment of complete silence that surrounds me as my insides start to move and turn strange, excited and anxious.  This was the key; somehow I knew it.  The crowd was still thick as I pushed hard through them.  Touya and the rest of them were probably looking strangely at my back as I rushed against the surging mob of people.  The answer was only a few more feet away.  It had to be.

The stand was busy, swamped with business, the backs of too many heads filling my sight.  Workers were taking orders as the customers crowded around the small hut, tightly packed around the sample platters.  The banner flapped loudly as the wind picked up, the plum logo snapping and rippling like a distorted mirage.  I managed to wedge myself through the crowd, hastily reaching for my badge.  "Excuse me; I'm an officer, I need to get ahead.  Excuse me."

But the murmur droned me out, forcing me to grab and pull randomly, yanking people of my way, ignoring their hissing curses and enraged shouts.  The heavy scent of sweetness perfumed the air as I got closer to the stand.  The plum…  And the kitchen…

I pushed hard between two people, finally finding myself against a velvet rope.  Ahead was the small temporary kitchen, a few plastic tables scattered around, people biting into dripping pastries.  I scanned the area hard for something; all there was were people.  But everything in me was telling me the answer was here, that this was what he meant.  

And yet, there were only people, sitting at those tables and talking and laughing or reading their newspapers and reaching over for napkins.  Just white plastic tables and chairs.  Just crumpled up napkins and abandoned plates and scattered utensils and a left behind book.  I squinted almost haphazardly at the cover, expecting some pointless trashy romance novel, but suddenly finding myself reading the words with a growing sense of seriousness.  'Unearthing Egypt.  Kinomoto Fujitaka.'  

Almost falling over on my face, I desperately jumped over the velvet rope, stretching for the table.  I would've said the tabletop seemed perfectly innocent if I hadn't known better.  The half eaten plum tart, the plastic knife that laid across the paper plate, the book, the crumpled napkin.  My instincts tell me to go for the book, but there's something about the yellow napkin, the strange pattern some black stains make.  Carefully poking it and unfolding it with a random chopstick, I smooth open the cloth, staring almost catatonically down at the neatly printed capitals.  'YOU HAVE SUCCEEDED I SEE.  LET'S TRY SOMETHING HARDER SHALL WE?  ONE MONTH.  MRS. PEACOCK IN THE CONSERVATORY WITH THE ROPE.' 

I look up quickly, running my eyes over the people, all looking so plain and innocent.  And all I had was another stupid riddle.  I'm so fucked…

____________________________________________________

Author's Notes:  Heh, that took a while to do.  And not even really that long.  Boo me.  Reviews remind to update faster.  Hint, hint. =)


	13. The Conservatory

Author's Notes:  I've been apologizing left and right, so let's get this over with.  Gomen nasai.  I've been really busy and other stories keep popping up into my head.  Let's hope I can get back on track with this fic.  Review, won't you?

Thanks to **mya**, **starquestor**, **The Great One** (Um…okay, sure), **chibicherry** (enjoy the convention, unless it already passed, heh), **The Dark Shadow Mystress** (have an answer?), **Final Fantasy Princess**, **KanbiAme**, **nightshadow**, **japanfan** (apparently as soon as possible is um..two months), **Kitty Neko**, **Lera**, **Isa-chan** (Syaoran's telling the story to Yamakazi; I'll pick up from the present in a couple of chapters I think), **Superbookworm** (sorry, phone's out of batteries.  Chiharu's the waitress…If there's C+Y, it'll be very slight), **KayJuli** (btw, where is 'power…'?), **Pink Cherry Blossom**, **Aurora**, **Ophelia Winters** (*drools* chocolate…), **Silly*Niecy**, **Ti'ana** (hmm…no pressure here), **kawaiipup**, **cutie kero** (take a number), **FlameSolo, lil' wolf**, **d** (hmm…just thought the old 'f-off' seemed appropriate), **Rosie**, **lilyflower**, **Miss Suspense**, **Summer Rain**, **cherry-princess, ice, reveileb maerdyad** (yeah, took long enough didn't it?), **The Star Angel** (hopefully I can get to dark fantasy by Thanksgiving).

Disclaimer:  Don't own CCS, not one drop of ink.

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 13:  The Conservatory 

I push through a throng of reporters, all choking the emergency entrance of Tomodea hospital.  The ambulance has gone silent now, but the red lights still flash and flicker around the developing crowd.  The television cameras and microphones don't help much as I try to get to the door without getting impaled on some audiovisual equipment.  The sliding doors are guarded by a few security guards and orderlies.  They stand there apathetic, letting the reporters flood past them into the lobby.

I keep pushing, prying elbows out of the way.  The lobby has been cornered off by police tape, little good that does.  Naoko stands guard, glaring at the crowd; two suited government agents behind her lean against the counter of the nurse's station.  Chief Mizuki is talking heatedly into a cell phone, wearing a long pacing pattern across the tiled floor.  And not surprisingly, Yamakazi's smiling and chatting to some nurse, obviously getting nowhere as the poor girl keeps glancing up at the clock over his head.

The end of the mob approaches, and I hurtle toward the free space, getting myself jammed between two competing news reporters with their professional grave faces.  Quickly, I duck underneath the yellow tape, and breathe in relief.  Yanagisawa spares me a glance.  "A little late…"

I scowl.  "Yeah, well I couldn't get through this crowd.  Doesn't the hospital need this space for emergency cases?"

She snorts.  "Yeah; we've sent for some extra officers to help expel the reporters, but they're not here yet."

"Great, the longer they're in here, the more crap they'll make up.  The last thing we need is some paper announcing that we've made an arrest tomorrow morning and then find out we didn't and then write some editorial on how we're not doing our jobs right."

"Cynical in the morning aren't we?"  She almost smiles, but it fades.  "So, the government bastards want to talk to you."  She hooks a thumb to the two at the nurse's station.

I smirk. "Endearing, aren't they?"  I leave Naoko behind fuming and glaring death at some of the reporters.  I think I see a few of them shrinking away.  Any trace of amusement leaves me as I approach the two men.  "How'd this happen?"

One of them shifts so he's leaning to face me.  "Ah, Detective Li, how nice of you to make it.  We were wondering if you were stuck in traffic."

I give an annoyed glance to the receding mob.  "Something like that.  What happened exactly?"

"Another letter bomb.  Regular package.  Some guy got it this morning. It wasn't mailed, just left on his doorstep, no name, no return address.  So he called up the police.  Unfortunately, the thing exploded in his hands while he one the phone."

I nod curtly, jotting this down.  "The victim?"

"Still in OR, probably won't be able to get a statement of him."

"The bomb?"

"Our agents are still going over it.  Looks pretty much blown to bits.  Doesn't look like we'll get anything important off it."

"What about suspects?"

The one the right glances over my shoulder and straightens, as does other agent.  "Actually, we should be discussing this in private; there's a conference room down the hall."

The conference room stinks of antiseptic and there's a picture of a, I think, diseased kidney still taped to the dry erase board.  "Well?"

"Our agents are still going through the lists.  There have been a lot of people fired from government positions in the past 10 years."  One of them slides an evidence bag over to me.  "We wanted to ask you about this."

It's the napkin from the Tomoeda fair.  "What about it?"

"It seems that you found it, correct?  At the Tomoeda fair."

"So what?"

"But you were stationed at the Fourth Avenue Café.  So you left your post because you knew where it would be, didn't you?  Probably knew for days.  And you didn't bother to inform us."  One of them smiles crookedly, derisively.  "Now what kind of a partnership is that?"

"It slipped my mind; besides you never bother to tell me what you're doing.  I recall last week, you detained a suspect without informing me."

The man smirks harder, answering off handedly.  "It _slipped_ our minds."

I stand up ready to get the hell out of here.  "If there's nothing more…"

"If you would wait Officer Li, we were wondering if you had any brilliant ideas what this clue means?  Mrs. Peacock in the conservatory?"

"The opera house," I say curtly.  

They have this horrible look of superiority on their faces.  The one on the left almost drips condescension.  "You can hardly believe that; the deadline's only two weeks away.  I'm sure that you must be aware that a conservatory is a greenhouse."

I stop my answer in my throat and instead smile sourly, twisting open the door.  "Oh, yes, my mistake."  As I leave I can hear one of them saying something with the word 'fluke.'  But they'll be the ones groveling when their supervisor finds they've been outwitted by some no name local police precinct.  They'll learn it pays to do some research before jumping to conclusions.

When I get back into the lobby, it's practically empty, the groups of reporters watching from behind the sliding doors.  Naoko stands nonchalantly near a potted plant, her eyes shifting to notice me before pinning them back in front of her.  I take it as her way to saying she wouldn't mind talking to me.  "What'd they think of your idea?"

"Brushed it off."

She snorts.  "Figures.  If it's worth anything, I think you're on the right track."  She flicks a strand of hair out of her face.  "Even if Mizuki won't authorize the expenditure."

I nod along, knowing full well the amount of manpower I would need would be virtually impossible to get.  It's one thing to ask for some backup but to put a whole precinct on duty at one place in all of Tomoeda…

___________________________________________

Mizuki stalks across her office, hair slipping out of its ponytail.  "What you're asking for is impossible; we're already stretched thin and I just can't authorize this.  Besides, the mayor would have a fit, and I'm not in the mood to take time out of my job to deal with the red faced bastard."

I follow her across the room again with my eyes.  "I realize it's a lot to ask.  I'm just saying that I have a very strong hunch he'll be there.  It makes sense.  It's a play on conservatory, and what better place than an opera with thousands of people.  And he loves the attention; what better than at the last performance of the biggest opera Tomoeda ever had?"

She pins her gaze on me.  "I understand, but hundreds of places make sense, Syaoran.  Anything from public gardens to ballet schools.  You have to realize I can't make this decision based on your hunch, no matter how good it is.  It's probability that he's as likely to be at the opera as he would be at the botanical gardens."

I nod again.  "I know, but even if you can't spare me the amount of people that I want, I could do with a few more officers."

"Syaoran, I'm already letting you be stationed there, and I've already talked to federal offices.  They're willing to put one agent there, but like I said, we're all overextended.  They just can't spare the men."

"I'm only asking for a few more, five more."

She finally sits back down at her desk.  "I can't.  The most I could possibly do is to give you one more person.  And you realize that one person means one less place we'd be covering."

"Of course, but I can't explain it.  The opera seems right.  I know it."

She taps her pen, scowling into air.  "I trust your instincts Syaoran, we're all trained that way.  And I think it would be a good place, but this is a girl's life.  We can't leave holes here and there because we think we're right.  So take or leave it, Syaoran.  One more officer."

I sigh.  "Fine, but I get to choose who."

"Sure, but I'm warning you Syaoran, I know how you work.  One officer, period.  No recruiting others away from their posts.  I let you off the hook last time when you left your post without permission, but it won't turn my eyes away if you disobey orders this time.  The end does not always justify the means, and I intend to uphold the importance of discipline in this precinct.  If I find you did anything to change the posts and shifts, believe me, you will dislike me very quickly.  Is that understood Officer Li?"

I say a 'yes, ma'am' and stalk out the office, my other plans dashed to pieces.  Naoko will have to remain where they posted her.  But that leaves the entire opera house with three guards.  Three people to monitor thousands of people?  Unacceptable.  And almost at the same time, the most ridiculous idea pops into my head.  An idea so against my training, against my common sense, so impossible that I almost collapse laughing.

And yet…I'm desperate.  It's only three days away; there're no other alternatives.  And something in my bones knows he'll be there, slipping into the dark.  So easy for him to come in, leave, escape three officers.  But the idea's still so impossible; I'd be doing phone duty forever if Mizuki ever found out.  

And they'd be in danger; I'd be deliberately putting them in danger.  I couldn't protect them if they got into trouble.  But the temptation's dangling in front of my eyes.  Another four pairs of eyes would be invaluable.  My phone is already lifted off the cradle.  It's insane and irresponsible. Sakura's voice whispers somewhere in my head.  The dial tone is barely heard against my ear as I punch in the number.

It rings a few times.  My eyes are focused somewhere ahead of me, my lips moving without my permission.  This goes against everything, every code.  "Yes, this is Detective Li."  I know I've gotten too attached to the case; my words betrayal to my oath.  "No, nothing.  I was wondering if I could stop by tonight."  Mizuki leaves her office and meets my eyes, and I turn away lest she see the shame on my face.  "Ten, yes, okay."

The receiver drops into the cradle and I can't believe that I just did what I did.  There's movement to my left and I turn to find Yamakazi trying to sneak up on me.  I glare at him.  He has that stupid fake innocent caught with your hand in the cookie jar look.  "Surprise?"

I don't smile.  "Right.  Actually, what's your post for Thursday?"

"Karaoke bar down on Fifty Three."

"Well, you're now officially on duty at the opera."  

He looks horrified.  "Well, who the hell did that?  I mean the opera?  The only women there are fat and in horns!  And those stuffy rich people!"

I turn a deaf ear to his complaints and roll my eyes.  "Shut up, will you?  I think the kidnapper will be there so I got Mizuki to let me pick another officer to help me."

He stops.  "You mean…you mean of all the people out there, you chose me?"  He ducks his head, hiding his face and for a moment I don't know what's going on.  Then he suddenly launches himself at me, his arms around my neck.  He hugs me and sniffles.  "Why Syaoran, if you liked me, you could've just told me, instead of this little plan.  Or maybe flowers, oh or candy.  Never mind it all.  I love you too!"

Always a joke with him.  I grab him and shove him away forcefully knowing my face is already seeping in red.  "Get the hell off, Yamakazi."

He looks at my face and cracks off into laughter, gasping and clutching his sides.  "Oh Kami-sama, you should see your face Syaoran."

I swallow a curse and stalk off.  Halfway to the front door, someone wolf whistles and I turn around to glare.  Naoko takes my glare and returns a 'you want to try' look.  I burn more and stomp outside, hoping a quick walk to take away the edge.

___________________________________________________

The light bulb is dim overhead, and the little porch seems blows a cool breeze.  The door opens up to the same yellow walls and the smell of food and warmth.  Fujitaka greets me politely and shows me into the living room.  Yukito's there, and strangely enough, Touya is sleeping in his lap.  Yukito smiles disarmingly and takes his hands out of Touya's hair and gently shakes the other man.  "Sorry, he's been so exhausted lately, with Sakura and all."

I nod and take a seat as Yukito shakes Touya awake.  He finally stirs and sits up, looking around the room hazily.  I almost think he isn't fully awake, but then he snaps back to me.  "Why are you here?  Is it Sakura?"  I start to point out that I already told him over the phone that I was coming tonight, but he just continues yelling.  "Well, answer me brat!"

Yukito restrains him.  "Remember Touya, Detective Li said he wanted to talk to us."

Touya only grunts in acknowledgement and sits back into the couch.  "Well, what did you want talk to us about?"

I smile forcedly.  Might as well get straight to the point, less time I've have to spend being glared at.  "I'm sure you realize that Thursday is the day kidnapper indicated.  The police and federal authorities are stationing officers and agents anywhere that has something to do with plants and music.  Unfortunately, we don't have nearly enough people and I have an instinct that he'll choose the opera house."

"So?"

I scowl back at Touya.  "As much as it pains to do this, I have to ask everyone here if you would help with surveillance at the opera."

It's quiet, so quiet I'm sure you could hear a fly sneeze.  "And we won't be interfering with your _investigation_?"

"Listen Touya, you may not like me, and I don't like you, and you can not believe, but I'm committed to finding Sakura.  That's why I need all the help I can get."

He considers it for a moment and I can hope I sounded sincere enough.  "Fine, we're in.  What do we do?"

"Keep an eye out for unusual behaviour and contact me or the other officers if you think someone is suspicious.  And before I continue, you have to realize I'm doing this without permission.  You'll be in danger and I can't protect you all.  So I don't want anyone being a hero.  If you see something, get someone who's trained to handle the situation."

They nod slowly.  Fujitaka smiles determinedly.  "What exactly do we do?"

I nod curtly and descend into carefully laid plans.  By the end, we've got most of the opera house covered.  And as formal as I can muster, I tell them 'thank you for your cooperation.;

Yukito shakes his head in disagreement.  "No, it's us who should be grateful.  It's been horrible just sitting on our hands and worrying; it means everything to me that I can help find Sakura."

I almost smile, he's so sincere.  "Either way, be careful and don't put yourselves in danger."  I open the door and the night air floods my senses, the perfume of grass and crisp pre-summer flowers.

"Detective Li."  Someone calls my name and turn to see Touya walking up to me.

I expect some kind of threat and ready my scowl.  But instead he rigidly sticks out his hand.  "I believe that you want to help Sakura.  Thank you."

I clumsily shake his hand, too far gone surprised to think straight.  Turning around I hastily make my way to the car, temporarily believing fully in miracles.  I turn around to get a last glance at the house.  Fujitaka stands behind Touya and smiles, Yukito waving from behind them.  And my last thought before I'm in the car is that Sakura's very lucky to have so many who care about her.

____________________________________________

Author's Note:  Okay, I'm going to say that I will have the next chapter out by Thanksgiving Sunday.  To make up for the three month gap.  It'll be action.  Don't be surprised if there are a few guest characters. =)  I wish I could promise a more regular schedule for this fic, but time really isn't my friend these days.  Nor is sleep…could be the caffeine pills, but who knows. 


	14. Mrs Peacock

Author's Notes:  So a promise is a promise, just don't expect this rapid update pattern to continue after this chapter.  Hopefully, I'll still be able to update somewhat regularly, maybe two weeks to a month. *shrug*  Finals are coming up and then I'm doing a workshop for my column so I'm going to be busy.  But I'll try to get these chapters out, though with the other unfinished stories to write for, it may seem a little erratic.

Arigatou to **chibicherry**, **KanbiAme**, **FlameSolo**, **The Great One** (*cringes* gomen), **KittyNeko**,  **Rhea** (aw, get some sleep), **lozza-pilgrim** (um, Thanksgiving was this week here in the US.  As for Sakura, she's cut off from communication but I'm thinking of having a chapter in her POV), **Missy-chan**, **Kirika** (a lot of questions…hopefully I'll put out the answers soon), **bishounen lovah**, **japanfan** (*hides under a rock* I fulfilled my promise)

Disclaimer:  So I was walking down the street thinking 'I don't own CCS' and then in a poof of purple magic dust, it was true.

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 14:  Mrs. Peacock

I will kill the person that invented ties, that is if he isn't dead already.  The opera surrounds me, high society fitted in suits and tuxedos and silk gowns and all bits of bright jewels.  Tomoeda at its best apparently.  

It's a strange thing that Tomoeda has an opera house; it's not as if this is a huge city.  Certainly not big enough to deserve this hulking building, moulded with all the money the city could spare, thick bright patterned carpets, walls bulging with textured wallpaper, chandeliers and sturdy soft furniture.  The perfect setting for the formal and informal alike, all chatting animatedly about the upcoming arias, the brilliant direction, the scenery.  

It's different for us, myself and Yamakazi, strolling almost unobtrusively around the lobby, weaving between socialites and opera connoisseurs, keens eyes searching for the one that doesn't belong.  There're thousands of people here, all amazingly similar, obscuring.  Everyone camouflages so well, like zebras, the mess of stripes hiding where one ends and the other begins. Even Fujitaka and Touya are hidden well, only a few feet off from me, but unrecognizable at momentary glance.  Suited and dressed up like the rest of us, one of the faceless crowd.

I watch Touya and almost start to regret asking for his help.  He just stands there glaring at every man that passes him, and I can almost see his mind ready to snap and pounce on the next person, accusing him of kidnapping his sister.  Thankfully, Yukito returns to his side, offering something to eat he got.  From where he got it I'll never know, but at least he has Touya suitably distracted.

I sag in relief; the last thing I need is Mizuki to hear about this arrangement.  I'm quite fond of my head thank you very much.  Overhead the 15 minute warning chimes and the flood of silk and jewels starts to make its way into the theatre, albeit very slowly.  I signal Yamakazi to head to the other side of the hall as I settle into a corner on this side.  Just lean back, act nonchalant, carefully watch everyone that passes by, scrutinize for a minute and eliminate.  Too old, women, too short.  

"Detective Li?"

I turn quickly to hush whoever called me, to protect my cover.  But I stop short, coming face to face with Tomoyo Daidouji bedecked in a gown I'm sure from out of the latest fashion magazines.  Attached to her arm to my dismay is Hiragisawa smiling for all purposes like the cat that swallowed the bird.  "Daidouji, what are you doing here?"

She looks horrified momentarily.  "What?  You think that I'd refused to do anything to help find Sakura?"  I open my mouth but find myself immediately cut off.  "And don't give me that you're a woman crap; I've had enough from Touya.  Me and Chiharu will find the kidnapper; just watch us."

I blink.  "Chiharu?  Mihara Chiharu?  The waitress?"  Daidouji nods and points over the crowd to the young woman in green, standing along in a sea of groups.  Every now and then, she takes a shrewd glance around before pretending to go back to consult the program.  It's amateurish and obvious, but maybe that's my professional eye.  Suddenly, there's movement behind her and I swallow a bitter mouthful of air.  It figures that Yamakazi's priorities are so ass backwards.  Girls first, duty second apparently.  "Mihara doesn't have a boyfriend, does she?"

Daidouji quirks her eyebrow.  "Are you interested, Officer Li?"

I grimace with the look of relish on her boyfriend's face.  "No, but I'd rather not have Yamakazi stagger out of here with a black eye."  And that's what he'll get if he doesn't stop flirting with Mihara and get back to duty.

Daidouji laughs.  "Oh, is that man the other officer?  He does seem very interested in Chiharu, doesn't he?"

"He's interested in every girl he sees."  I turn away hastily and stalk off towards Yamakazi, currently absorbed into one of his big stories I'm sure.  His hands are gesturing in big ridiculous movements; must be one of the complicated ones.  

As I approach, the girl rolls her eyes and sighs.  "That's nice, but I have something else to do."

He reaches out to keep her from leaving, but I intercept his hand and give a hard squeeze under the guise of a handshake.  I fake a smile and play my part.  "Why, Takashi, long time no see."

Chiharu seems to sigh in relief and quickly departs.  When she's out of earshot, I crush Yamakazi's hand and hiss at him.  "You're on duty; this is important.  Keep your eye on suspicious characters and off pretty girls."

He smiles disarmingly and nods, rubbing his hand.  "Sure, Syaoran.  It's all good.  But she is pretty isn't she?"

I shake my head in exasperation, just as the final warning bell goes over.  The rest of the stragglers, including Sakura's family and friends, head off into the theater.  I start off towards my post, but turn back to warn Yamakazi.  Kami-sama knows I need his undivided attention tonight.  "Don't get distracted.  I don't think Mizuki will buy the girl excuse if you screw up."

He mock salutes.  "Sure Syaoran.  Don't get yourself in a twist.  I'll be the bestest police officer ever."

I know that he's always cracks jokes, but he can get the job done when he decides to do it.  I can only hope that this one of those nights.  But all regrets vanish as I slip into a service corridor, heading backstage.

_____________________________________________

The orchestra swells as I step out behind a thick fold of curtain, the violins and drums and cymbals crash along the packed backstage area.  Ornately costumed singers and dancers stretch and pace before their great entrance.  Another cymbal crash rings through the air into the depths of the blackness.

Backstage is at once crowded and empty, both alive with activity and dead.  Beyond the preparation area is an expanse of blackness, the audio and light control station swallowed up by the shadows.  Above are catwalks, various technicians walking back and forth, operating the curtains and overseeing the scenery.  In short, the perfect place for not being seen.

While the singers pour themselves into song, I sneak off into the darkness, picking out the odd murky shapes, abandoned costumes, some brooms, not yet used scenery.  A few light bulbs throw feeble light on the metal ladder leading up into the catwalks.  I briefly scan the area around me before I start to haul myself up rung by rung.

The ladder leads a platform, a partial second floor that half circles above the stage.  A path leads down to the light and microphone control booth, a man inside checkerboard lit by the equipment panels' green and blue lights.  I pick the next catwalk over, treading over the metal walkway towards the curtain ropes and sandbags and rolled up scenery backdrops.   A man is hoisting something but stops as he catches sight of me.  "Who are you?"

I flash my badge quickly.  "Officer Li.  I'm just checking some things."

He nods and finishes his job.  "Picked a good place to stop; you can see pretty much the whole backstage from here."

I lean over the rails and find he's right.  To the left is the stage with its yellow glare and parading singers.  Directly underneath is the warm up area bobbing with dancers limbering up.  Beyond to the right are the dim storage areas.  There's another tremendous unexpected blare from the orchestra and something in the darkness shifts.  I strain to see into the dark, make out what exactly is moving, but I can't get a definite image.  I slide a little closer to the ladder, inching into the darkness.  The shape clears up a little, two arms and a head.  Probably a crewman, but the figure doesn't look quite right, struggling with pulling something out a pile of abandoned props.  I creep a little more into the dimness, letting my eyes get accustomed to the dwindling light. It's then that I tense and grip the railing, leaning dangerously forward more to get a better look.

The figure tugs something free, lifting it over his shoulder and for a minute the dim bulb overhead makes it clearer.  It's a coil of rope.

Almost immediately, I burst into a run, pelting down the catwalk, flinging myself at the ladder and half climb, half slide down.  I try desperately to keep my eye on the figure, but it moves quickly after freeing the rope, running past the folds of the thick black curtains and disappearing into the maze of dressing rooms and rehearsal studios.  I jump the last few steps and break into a run after the man.  

It's a strange feeling running backstage.  The music has disappeared and all that remains is my feet slamming against the old polished wood floor.  I can make out another set of footsteps getting closer and I push myself faster, determined to catch the bastard.  As I turn the corner, I slam into him, sending both of us stumbling, skidding into something on the floor and toppling us both over.  A bright burst of purple in my head tells me I've hit my head, but I scrabble up instinctively and pin the other beneath me.  "You're under arrest."

"Get off Syaoran." The voice is familiar and I hiss in a pained breath and focus on the voice, trying to shake my vision clear.  When I can finally make out what's in front of me, I see Yamakazi pinned under my hands, struggling out of my grasp.  "Damn it Syaoran; he's getting away."

That's enough to get me off Yamakazi and running down the hallway, alternate flashes of bright light dancing around my head, but no less slowing me down.  I almost burst frantically through the door at the end of the hall, but find myself suddenly in the lobby, surrounded by thousands of people.  Intermission.  Hope dwindles as I search hard, but there are too many people, all acting the same way, talking, smoking, having a good time.  I head backstage fuming.  "Fuck!"  I stalk back to Yamakazi while to shake off the remaining dazed haze blanketing my brain.

Yamakazi's still on the floor, rubbing his head.  He looks up at me.  "Got him?"

I shake my head no.  "It's intermission; too many people."

He nods in understanding.  "If we didn't fucking collide and trip…"

"Yeah."  I look beyond him to what we tripped over and feel my blood run cold.  A man's body lays stretched out on the ground, the rope uncoiled around his body.  "Shit."

Yamakazi turns around following my gaze and curses softly under his breath.  He slowly slides towards the body and tentatively places two fingers at the wrist.  "Thank god, still alive, just unconscious."

I sigh with him and point towards a pouch on the floor.  "Probably knocked out by that sandbag."  

Yamakazi picks up the bag and frowns gravely.  "Mizuki won't be happy.  A federal agent knocked out and two officers who can't catch one man."

I glare at him and snatch away the rope from on top of the unconscious man.  "Don't remind me."  As I start to coil up the rope, I notice something tied to it.  A note.  

Yamakazi notices it too.  "What does it say?"

I turn the rope up towards the light, careful not to touch the paper.  The neat capitals are as mocking as ever.  "BRAVO!  ENCORE!  ANOTHER CLUE SOLVED.  MAYBE THE NEXT WILL BE A LITTLE TOUGHER.  MR. GREEN IN THE LIBRARY WITH THE LEAD PIPE.  ONE MONTH."  Silence settles around us as the warning bell chimes again and murmuring people return to their seats.  When the music restarts its overture, Yamakazi motions for us to go tell report our discovery.  I nod and follow him, looking down at the rope in my hands, morbidly planning to slip the cord tightly around the bastard's neck when I catch him.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note:  Heh, not that good, but eh, it'll do I guess.  Anyway, now I've officially balanced out my updates, two in the past three months.  Hmm…well, sorta.  Anyway, reviews won't you?


	15. Mr Green

Author's Note:  Ah, another month I see.  Gomen nasai.  However, this chapter is a lot longer than the last so maybe that'll satisfy some people.  Sorry for the many little scenes, but I just wanted to show the week in quick retrospect.  Also, the game is changing now as we approach the present.  I think probably two more chapters until back to the present then maybe 5 more until the end, then probably some sappy epilogue.  We'll see.

Arigatous to **The Great One** (yeah, the movie was pretty good), **Kan-chan**, **chibicherry**, **Kitty Neko**, **Stormy Wind**, **KanbiAme** (originally, it was gonna be sap at the end.  Now?  Probably still will), **Amy**, **Isa-chan** (yeah, I'm thinking about another chapter in her POV, but nothing's really changed much since the beginning so…), **e t e r n a**, **Ongaku**, **Kirika** (I like people guessing), **JcherryWolf89**, **Jessica Janowiak**, **Final Fantasy Princess**, **reveileb maerdyad** (yeah, finally got around to doing the bio, adjusted my age too *shudder*), **bishounen lovah** (yeah, a month's wait for this chapter), **cherryblossomsakura2111**, **japanfan** (Mrs. Peacock was on the original clue to the opera, was continuing off of Professor Plum at the fair.  Hmm, I'm thinking maybe 7 more chapters or so till the end.  Actually, I've been measuring the time over the chapters and we're coming up on the present.  This chapter starts changing the game), **nightshadow**, **Silly*Niecy **(oh yeah, I'm getting like 10 hours of sleep a night now.  Love breaks so much.  I took astronomy this semester too, didn't do too well though…), **ice-cold**, **Nimuwayy**, **Ophelia Winters**, **Yuki** (believe me, I have no idea how the Japanese police act so this is basically American with some fiction and some TV stuff.  Syaoran's name is one of those unanswerable questions.  The subtitles from the anime spell it Shaolan, Shaoran, and Syaoran.  Great huh?  Technically, the hiragana romanization is Syaoran, but pronunciation is Shaolan so… but I like the 'y' better, hmm, go figure)

Disclaimer:  No, not mine.

**The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom**

Chapter 15:  Mr. Green

September 1 

"Where the fuck were you?  On a coffee break?"  

I follow Touya's stalking form across the living room.  The entire group is staring at him, eyeing him warily as if he was had some fizzling fuse trailing out of his head.  As it is I'm too tired to be bothered by getting angry, not after being reamed through by Kaho.  "We chased him, but lost him in the crowd."

Touya wheels around.  "You mean _you_ lost him."

I sigh heavily and make a move to get up.  Screw being tired; I'm ready to resolve it all in a fistfight, if only for relieving stress.  Luckily, Yukito tugs Touya down on the couch opposite.  "I've been through this already.  Look, I blame myself as much as you do, but we have to fucking move on."

Fujitaka nods and tries to clear the air.  "He's right Touya, we need to get past this and try to focus on getting Sakura back."

The words only serve to infuriate Touya more.  He gets out of Yukito's grip and stands to glare at Fujitaka.  "God, what do _we_ do?  _He_ asks us for help and we give it to him only to find nothing.  Then he finds out the bastard that kidnapped Sakura and does he even tell us?  He lets him get away!"

"That's not true Touya."  All attention goes to Daidouji.  The air if filled with an uncomfortable tension; even Hiragisawa has the tact to keep quiet.  "He didn't have time.  Besides, Li-san said he wouldn't put us in danger."

Touya grunts and prowls back and forth.  "Then what the hell are we doing here?  Do we just let the guy taunt us until he finally kills her."  He turns again to glare at me.  "And what are the police doing?  What the hell are they doing to help?"

"We're trying to narrow down the list of suspects, but it's a very long list."  I sigh again, a habit I've been developing the past few weeks.  "It's a frustratingly slow process."  It's silent and the air is charged with a kind of thick stifling electric feel.  And all the stress and anger and frustration wells up in the back of my throat, gathering into a knot so big that I convulsively swallow.  The longer the case drags on, the more impossible it seems.  Police proverbs always says that the criminal has to make a mistake sometime, but it's been months since the kidnapping, and nearly a year of the bombings.  When is the stupid slip up supposed to come?  When Sakura's body has long been disposed of?  I shake my head angrily.  Faith.  Is that what we're supposed to have?  All bullshit.  

"Officer Li?"  I look to Tomoyo and almost sense that she knows what I'm thinking.  She softens slightly, looking hopeful and apologetic.  "We'll still do anything we can to help.  We'll save her, I know it."

I nod dumbly, nothing more than a police puppet.  "Sure," I say without an ounce of meaning it.  Slowly I stand up to go, ready to limp back to my apartment and sit, staring bug eyed at the many dead end police reports.

"Officer Li?"

"Yes, Kinomoto-san?"

The older man smiles a little.  "Would you like to eat with us?  It's nothing really great, leftovers mostly."

I make a move to refuse but the thoughts of my dark apartment and the approaching hours of futile searching spear me with such disgust that I nod and follow them to the dining room.  I know it's going to be uncomfortable, but it's nice in a way too, just to sit with people that understand how I feel, even if we don't say anything.  As I predicted, dinner is completely silent, only the random clinking of chopsticks and spoons on plates and bowls is heard.  And strangely, it felt good.

____________________________________________

It's a few days away from the next scheduled bomb, another three weeks to another stupid, pointless clue.  I find myself sitting back in the federal office conference room, on one side of the giant oval desk, facing the giant window that stares off into the bay.  Hwang sits leisurely to my right, talking casually with two suited agents.  The line of chairs opposite remains quiet, the panel of high level officials neat and blank.  We wait in complete silent.  Finally, a man hurries in and sets his folders and files on the desk before taking his seat.  He takes a sip of the coffee before him and nods sharply to the gray haired woman in the center.

She begins in a clipped business, no nonsense tone.  "As we all know, this situation has gotten out of hand.  We cannot afford this maniac loose in Tomoeda.  A young woman's life also hangs in the balance."  She turns an appraising eye on me.  "Mr. Li, we have several commendations on record for your work.  Have you been able to find any new evidence that may help us in this investigation?"

I shake my head bitterly.  "I'm sorry, there has been nothing new.  It's proven to be a difficult to obtain any new evidence.  No fingerprints have been found on his notes and he was able to likewise escape at the concert hall."

"Yes, we have these incidents on file already.  We agree with you; this man is very quick, very professional.  This game that he plays cannot be allowed to continue.  There's no telling how this will end.  Dr. Hanaka, what is your opinion of the subject now?" 

The bald man stirs nervously in his seat, flipping hastily through a mess of papers.  Eventually he finds the right one and adjusts his glasses.  "Yes, of course.  This game has certainly worried me.  Placing himself at the concert hall is something I would have never suspected he would do.  It shows that his confidence is high.  His willingness to use violence is also indicated.  The injured agent testifies to this.  While it is not wholly unusual to see this progression, the transition from taunting to violence has been within the span of only a few months suggests that we are dealing with someone that is truly dangerous.  I fear that soon he may find it within himself to kill the Kinomoto girl."

"Has your profile changed any doctor?"

"I don't believe so.  Despite the new show of violence, his bombing pattern suggests a connection with the government.  I still believe that he was probably once a civil servant."

The gray haired director nods solemnly.  "How about the suspect lists?"

I glare at the two agents on my left.  "The Tomoeda police have eliminated around 500 suspects.  However, the district office is in officially in charge of the bulk of the lists."

She turns her attention to the agents who make a great show of being proper and respectful.  "We have our office working around the clock, ma'am.  So far we have narrowed the list down to a less than thousand."

"I see."  Silence stretches across the board.  Finally the director makes a move to get up, announcing in her flat voice, "This man is a threat to Tomoeda's citizens and I will not accept anything less than your best.  This meeting is adjourned."  

__________________________________________________

"You heard her Syaoran right?  She wanted your best."  Hwang leans a little closer.  "Five months and nothing.  With your reputation, I thought your best would be better."

I inadvertently crumple the side of the file in my hands. "May I remind you Hwang that you've been on the case longer than I have?  What has it been, a year?"

He frowns and scowls, ready to make some stupid remark back at me.  But Naoko interrupts us, and it's a well know fact that one makes way for Naoko, or be picking up your teeth from the floor.  "There're some people to see you Syaoran."

I nod quickly, glaring at Hwang's back as he drifts across the room.  "One of these days, I'm going to kill him."

Naoko almost smiles for a second.  "I'll pretend that I didn't hear that, witnesses you know."

A second later and a woman and her child are standing in front of my desk.  The little girl is fidgeting at her mother's side, trying to pull away.  The woman abstractedly yanks her child close, looking stressed and nervous.  "Ano…Detective Li?"

"Yes?"

She hastily pushes the child forward a little.  "Give Officer Li the book, Noriko."  When the child makes no move, the mother sighs and prods the girl again.  Finally after what seems like an hour the child frowns and begins to unzip her jacket and pulls out a book.

I take the book from her.  It's a paperback Japanese translation of 'The Secret Garden.'  Very ratty cover, sporadic holes, pages barely sticking to the spine with the help of tape and stained disgustingly brown.  "Is there something about this book?"

The mother flusters and starts to stammer out a story, rushed and all together hard to understand.  "You see Li, I mean Officer Li, there was this book report and Noriko was at the library and then we found it inside.  I mean I didn't think for a moment it was what it was, but we thought it just might be and then we thought it would be best to show it to you."  

I must've looked I've just been staring at the TV for hours, blank.  She recriminates herself under her breath and tries to stumble through the full story again, but I hold up a hand to stop her.  "How about I just ask?"  She nods gratefully.  "What exactly did you find?"

"A note.  Page 70.  We thought…well, we thought it was some joke or something, but then we looked at the newspapers and well, it might be it right?"

I don't even bother to question her for the moment, instead flipping through the book, careful of the crackly half disintegrated pages.  At page 70, there's a white slip of paper, blank.  "This paper?"

The woman nods earnestly.  "Yes, the writing on the other side.  We thought well, it might be that crazy bomber guy."

I freeze, completely, fingers inches from touching the paper.  It must be a few seconds later that I find my coordination again, picking up a pen from my desk and carefully flipping over the white slip.  The crisp letters show themselves one by one.  A-N-O-T…  I hastily turn the whole thing over, finding verification.  'ANOTHER CLUE SOLVED.  A VERY WORTHY ADVERSARY YOU ARE.  NOW THE GAME GETS HARDER.  MRS. WHITE WITH THE GUN IN THE STUDY.'

The woman's still staring intently at me, something in her eyes that I can only think is anticipation.  No doubt, once I confirm it, she's ready to go home and tell all her neighbors and family about her discovery.  "Well?"

"It might be, though we'll have to test it."  She nods happily and I lose myself in the book.  I shake myself and try to get back into policeman's mentality.  "May I ask a few questions?"

Fifteen minutes later, I'm sitting alone at my desk staring down at the note through the clear plastic of the evidence bag.  Apparently Noriko had a book report to do and they waited till last minute to check out a book.  All the other copies of 'The Secret Garden' had been long checked out so they ended up going into deep storage in the basement to find this copy.  Lead pipe probably referred to the heating pipes surrounding the storage room and Mr. Green could've been the green cover.  It's all insane, the kidnapping, the game, the stupid notes.  There's no way in hell I would've figured it out.  There's no way I would've found that one book, especially since Tomoeda library has over 50,000 books and there are three other major branches throughout the city, not to mention dozens of bookstores.  I bet the lunatic didn't factor in book reports.  Something else annoys me, but it's late and I make a note to get to it first thing in the morning.

____________________________________________

The morning's barely begun and I'm waiting out in front of the receptionist desk at the federal security office.  I munch the rest of my breakfast, some half stale breakfast bar that the vending machine stocks up on.  It tastes a little like peanuts with a strange crunch that I think is honey gone hard.  Men and women in pressed suits and pants circulate around me, disappearing into elevators and stairwells.  My target comes in a few minutes later, briefcase at his side, the picture of all work and no play.  I give him a professional nod, approaching him with the patented 'detective with a lead' gait.  "Excuse me Dr. Hanaka, I'm Detective Li from the Kinomoto case.  I was wondering if you had any free time now?  I wanted to discuss the note that came in yesterday."

He searches my face for a few seconds trying to remember me.  "Oh yes, Li-san.  Yes, that note was quite the surprise to me too.  Please follow me, I have some time before morning meetings."

I follow him through the twisting hallways, passing through security checks and thinly carpeted halls that look like they belong three star hotel.  He stops in front of a plain wood door and ushers me into his office.  The office is a small cramped place, bright with the wall sized glass window.  I sink into the offered chair, taking in the absence of those stereotypical framed diplomas and certificates of recognition that most shrinks have up for display.

After a few minutes of shuffling and setting things down, he flops down behind his desk and straightens his glasses on the bridge of his nose.  "Now, what did you want to discuss about the note?"

I had sent the note over to their forensics team pretty much as soon as I got it.  The results haven't been finalized yet, but they assure that it is from the bomber.  Fingerprint analysis yet again came back negative except the mother and child.  "Maybe I'm making something out of nothing, but it didn't make sense.  The note was planted at least three weeks before the designated time, but he was on scene the last two times."

Dr. Hanaka nods.  "Yes, that has puzzled me and my colleagues too.  Generally when someone of this nature begins this kind of game, he follows it exactly.  Like his handwriting, everything is clear without exception.  In his mind, there's no other alternative than playing by the rules.  There could be no reason for breaking them."

"What about fear of being caught?  We almost got him last time."

He shakes his head negative.  "Sorry, he's shown by starting the game that he doesn't believe the police to be a threat.  He feels confident that he'll never be caught, which allows him to play the game by the rules.  He likes taunting the police and he wouldn't derive that enjoyment unless there's a level playing field."

"Then why would he plant the note this early?"

Lines crease on his head.  "There's no telling.  The human mind works in strange ways.  I'd lean toward some change in mindset, but I have no idea what.  He might have come up with a better game.  He could also be preparing to dispose of Ms. Kinomoto.  The possibilities are infinite."  He stares into space for a moment.  "This man, he's a strange case; it's like two different minds.  He is not following the general profile."  Hanaka's mouth thins into a line.  "It makes him very dangerous."

A shiver runs up my back as I stand up to shake his hand.  "Well, thank you very much doctor."  My footsteps are a little bit faster as I exit the office, a little bit more hurried knowing that time is running out for Sakura.

_____________________________________________________

I run into Hwang outside the forensics office.  He's there for the same reason as I am: fingerprints.  We have our customary argument and then head inside.  It's bright and busy, a large room of probably a dozen people going and back and forth between big and small machines.  White coats abound.  One of them stops briefly and asks us what we want.  She leads us through the door to another office, saying something about lunch and then disappears.  I knock against the door a few times but there's no answer.  Hwang impatiently opens the door to find that the director's gone.  "Early lunch," I say, in the fashion of someone who just got the meaning of some big joke.

"Great, leave a note then."

I pull out my pad and start scribbling down a message, but Hwang snatches the pen away from me in mid sentence.  "What the hell?"

He gives me that annoying smug grin and starts writing his own note.  "My handwriting's neater; yours looks like it's from some person with a broken hand."

I huff and look at his writing and find he's right.  Stupid neat, perfect penmanship.  "Whatever.  Let's get back to the station; there's work to do."  

The rest of the afternoon disappears in a mess of telephone calls and alibi tracing.  The government suspect list isn't getting any shorter.  It's amazing how many people have been fired, quit or transferred in the past five years.  Must be the economy I guess.

The clock tells me it's six when the phone rings.  I have just enough time to cross out another suspect's name before the fourth ring.  "Li here."

"Oh, Detective Li, this Director Nasakawa from the federal forensics office.  Sorry, I was out for early lunch.  I received the note.  Was there something you wanted to know?"

"Just wanted to confirm the fingerprint analysis on the book."

"I'm sorry.  It's been handled too many times to isolate any useful prints.  Besides, the moisture content in the air down there has distorted the pages some.  I'm afraid there's no useful evidence here."

I sigh and shake my head, oblivious to the fact that she can't see me.  "It's fine; I didn't really expect any.  Thank you again."

I stare ahead of me a little afterwards, the kind of spacing out that leads to nothing but hurt eyes.  Eventually, I shift back to the suspect list and pick up the phone again.  It was likely my pillow tonight would be the stack of papers strewn over my desk.  I hate it when I'm right.

_____________________________________________

It's two days later that I'm rudely awakened at my desk.  Another night of tracking down alibis.  Every inch of my nerves are twisted into small painful little knots, knowing that today is the date of the next bombing.  Kaho assigned me to the courthouse and I thought I might as well sleep at the station so I could get to my post earlier.  Who knew the lunatic would be me to the punch? 

Someone bangs against my desk and I awaken blearily to a scene of complete chaos.  People rushing out the door and the wailing of many sirens.  I manage to stumble onto my feet and catch hold of Yamakazi as he's rushing by.  "What's the hell's going on?"

"The bomb.  They just found it."

I look at the clock, momentarily confusing the hour and minute hand.  Eventually, I realize it's barely 7 in the morning.  "Already?"

"Yeah, let's go."

"Where?"

"The post office in the shopping center."

"Right."  I stumble a few more steps before the fuzziness goes away and I can actually feel my fingers and feet for real.  The ride's long and loud, an army of sirens and lights flanking out sides.  It feels like some ridiculous parade.

The scene is basically the same as the one in the library those months back.  Layers and layers of ambulances, fire trucks and police cars.  Early morning workers are cordoned off to the side, still growing larger as passersby stop to stare.  Even Chief Mizuki is up near the entrance, swatting away reporters.  

I reach her after a strenuous early morning workout of pushing away nosy cameras and people with no sense of danger.  "What's going on?"

She spares a quick irritated look before going back to rebuffing some media people that wouldn't take 'no comment' for an answer.  "I'll tell you once I get these bloodsuckers back behind the tape."  She snarls fiercely at the black camera lenses and the blinking red lights.  "Okay, listen.  You'll get your statement as soon as we have one.  Now get back behind the line or I will have all you in for obstruction."  She adds a murderous glare for good measure and the reporters slowly edge back toward the wooden police barriers.  "Finally.  Come on."

I follow her obediently as she heads into the mall.  "What's happening?"

"Dud.  Bomb was a dud, at least that's how it seems.  One of the cleaning staff found a box outside the postal office.  Guy opened it and found the bomb.  Somehow it didn't blow up in his face and he called the police.  Fourth precinct got to it first and called in the bomb squad."

We descend a flight of stairs into the lower level, passing by dark stores.  Voices drift from down the hall, a few indistinguishable dark blobs murmuring in the echoing near silence.  As we approach, one of them straightens up to meet us.  "It's disarmed.  A wire had slipped out of place.  Lucky guy.  When he opened the box the trigger stayed unarmed.  Or else he'd be half way to Tokyo by now."

I approach the remaining group while Mizuki starts to get all the details, preparing her speech for her unavoidable television debut.  The other three technicians are working on the bomb.  Two are hunched over carefully wrapping the disassembled pieces in packing foam and gently placing it back in its box.  The third is carefully snapping shut a plastic evidence box, dusting off her hands with a clapping motion.  She looks up at me and then down at her blackened hands.  "I guess we'll have to do without the introductions.  Nasakawa Hitomi.  Detective Li right?  You're the one that left the note at my office a few days ago right?"

"Oh yes, of course, director Nasakawa."  I point toward the bomb.  "Was there anything useful?"

She smiles proudly, patting the box at her side.  She almost looks ten years younger for a moment.  "Don't know if it'll help but I think I lifted a partial print off the bomb casing.  We'll do a full dusting at the office later."

Fingerprint?  So he did slip…  "How long would analysis take?"

"Um, maybe a half a day?  Would you like to be notified once we get the results?"

"Yes, please.  It might be the only solid lead that we have right now."

She nods in understanding and directs her team toward the back exit, all three carefully lifting the box.  "A fingerprint huh?" Hwang suddenly appears at my side as they disappear through the glass doors.  "Finally, a break for our hard working detective."

"Yeah, and maybe you'll finally be able to say you've solved a real case."  I smirk back maliciously just to rub it in more before getting away to interview the witness.  If the world were perfect I'd have Hwang's stupid, red insulted expression photographed and framed.

______________________________________________

The afternoon disappears into a flurry of avoiding newspaper agents, talking via speakerphone with the district office and constantly checking up on the forensics team.  Again, if the world were perfect, they'd have been locked in their office with no food or water until they finished the stupid analysis.  As it is, I distractedly try to cut down on the suspect list, reading over files and affidavits, but always involuntarily straying back to look at the phone every now and then.

I'm partially through a packet of terminated post office employees when the phone finally rings.  I snatch it up quickly, unaware of how my breathing seems to have stopped temporarily.  Everything seems to converge in that moment.  Expectation.  Hope.  Fear.  "Li here."

"Detective Li, this is Nasakawa from forensics.  Congratulations, we've found a fingerprint match in the database."

The world stops.  For a second, maybe a little longer and all that I can do is fumble back a thank you and try to place the phone back on its cradle.  A match…  The bastard's going down.

___________________________________________________

Author's Notes:  Hehe, thought I'd end with that kind of 'your ass is grass' police bravado.    Anyway, soon it's back to the present, with all new plot twists.  Yay!


	16. Prime Suspect

Author's Notes:  Well, here's the truth.  This is the last day of spring break for me and I've spent today writing this chapter.  My schedule for the next three weeks is pretty much lab report, prelim, prelim, prelim, lab report and prelim.  Oh and daily Japanese homework in between.  So it's not going to be pretty.  I will update when I can, but looking at my track record, I think I'd rather not say a definite date or else I'll break the promise by about two months…

Thanks to **starquestor**, **Meruru-chan**, **Aleris**, **Ash Night**, **Final Fantasy Princess** (hmm…well, Sakura's definitely going to be back in the story, but at the end, which isn't that far off, I guess), **Ophelia Winters**, **reveileb maerdyad** (oh no, the plot twist has to be based on us knowing the bomber), **kitty neko**, **:)**, **Grinning Contrivance**, **Ongaku**, **wouldntyouliketoknow** (there will be, but I'm still considering whether it'll be sap or hints.  Both have their validity), **lozza-pilgrim** (hehehe, um so I'm not forgiven am I?  Right now, it's more like winging it than expertly set out), **japanfan**, **The Great One**, **Rosie** (she's um…there.), **girl_sport17** (wow, your butt must hurt…), **Kirika** (oh it's real; all you need is one slip up), **bishounen lovah**, **Silly*Niecy**, **Yuki** (lots of questions…uh, the weapons are basically random for me, for the kidnapper, who knows?  Past and present meet up um…1 to 2 chapters from this point.  Oh yeah, he's gonna be frustrated, you just wait.), **Kyae**, **Aisukii** (I'm really sorry, but that's way past now.  Happy belated birthday though…), **Ti'ana,** **cherryblossomsakaru2111**, **A-chan** (oops…what was that again?), **michelle**, **kamikaze**, **nightshadow**, **kurayami and hikari**, **shazaoblossom**, **Liying**, **Pochacco** (quite a list…very interesting thoughts), **s jus me, Sweet Cherry Blossom. **

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 16:  Prime Suspect

The last twenty-four hours have been faster than any day in my life.  It's barely morning and I haven't slept, and there's a bomber in a cell about twenty feet away from my desk.  Ueda Satoru.  Sounds like an ordinary name, ordinary guy too.  We just about took a fleet of cars when we got his address.  Battered his door down, slid through his house, donned our bulletproof vests.  And there he was watching TV, just lying back on the couch watching a game show.  

He looked up at us, at me with my gun drawn.  Fear.  He was afraid of us, shrank back from us as we approached him, pled his innocence as we bound his hands.  We almost thought we got the wrong guy, that is until we opened up his den.  Walls covered with newspaper clipping, pinned so neatly with four white thumbtacks in every corner.  A separate bulletin board for the letters and clues.  A fold out table in the middle of room.  A pair of architect triangles and a T square.  A row of pencil, a yellow raft upon the dark blue blotter.  The bureau near the window held carefully arranged tangles of wires, boxes of screws, large polished metal casing.  It was insanely professional.

Everything disappeared in my memory after that.  I remember reading him his rights.  Then we searched his house carefully, but couldn't find Sakura.  There was no basement and each room we entered looked virtually unlived in.  He must've had her somewhere else.

I hadn't really gotten a good look at him till we got back to the precinct after going through his house and things.  Federal agents and police officers were swarming the place.  It was just a momentary glimpse of him as they led him to meet with a lawyer.  He was in his thirties, dark hair somewhat short, face slightly padded with flesh.  It was a plain face, fearful, but intelligent.  It made me shiver that someone so normal looking could have caused such violence.

The night disappeared too.  Sakura had still not been found and I spend the hours carefully going through Ueda's papers, looking for the barest hint of where he hid her.  A storage space, a relative's address, a boat…  But there was nothing more than bills and junk mail.  Long arguments with credit card companies and banks in the morning had failed to produce anything of a lead.  No charges, no deposits.  He'd hidden Sakura amazingly well.

I'm still going through the last of his credit card statements when a loud squeal echoes outside.  Instantaneously, Touya bursts through the precinct doors and I know this was going to get ugly.  I run towards him and barely manage to reach him and hold him back before he reaches the door leading to the cells.

He isn't happy to see me.  In fact he elbows me right in the stomach.  "Where is he?  Where's Sakura?!"

"We don't know yet."  I curse the media for leaking the information and clamp down on Touya's shoulder to keep his arms tied to his side.  "They're still interrogating him."

"You've had him since yesterday.  Get him to talk already!"

I strain to push him back away.  Other officers are looking at us, hovering and ready to intervene.  I caution them away as I try to subdue Touya myself.  His height certainly isn't helping me complete the task.  "We're doing the best we can; his lawyer isn't giving us much."

"Lawyer?  He shouldn't get a lawyer.  You should force it out of him."

I snort and hiss as my muscles begin to sore.  "At gunpoint you mean?"

"If that's what it takes."

I move him back a few more inches when his weight seems to disappear.  I stumble forward and right myself before I fall.  When I get my bearing straight, he's twisting unsuccessfully in Fujitaka and Yukito's grip.  I try to straighten my clothes and give him a warning glare.  "If you don't stop yourself, I may be forced to arrest you."

My words seem to calm him as he slows struggling.  Warily the two men behind him let go of his arms.  "You'd better find her."  His tone is wearily serious.

"We will."  I glare a little at the other officer and the station slowly returns to itself and people start moving again.  I motion the three men towards my desk.  "Since you're down here, I'll fill you in on what we have."

It's only a matter of few minutes to clue them in; I don't know much either.  Stupid bureaucratic red tape...  All I need is one interview but they're still negotiating with the lawyer.  I sigh and push the credit statements and bank deposits toward them.  It's completely illegal what I'm doing but it's something I need to do.  They look too hopeful, too desperate.  "I shouldn't give you these, but perhaps you can find a hint of somewhere he could have put her.  No detail is too small."

They look at me collectively for a moment before Fujitaka frowns a little, picking up the first sheet.  "You're not supposed to give these to us are you?"

"No."

There's silence between us as the precinct goes along its business in the background.  He finally nods and carefully slips the papers in the folds of his jacket.  "Thank you."

"Forget it.  I'll call if there's anything new."

As they're walking through the doors I can see Yamazaki in the corner of my eye.  "Something up?"

"You shouldn't have given them evidence."

I tense and turn away from him.  "That's not your business."

"…true.  I came to tell you that they told me to tell you that you can have your interview with Ueda."

"Now?"

"Yeah, his lawyer finally got a deal and is letting him talk to us."

It's all I need before I'm banging on the door to the interrogation room.  It's a different room that people think.  No one sided mirror, no steel backed chairs.  In fact it's more of a conference room.  A suited man sits at the end of the oval table and nods his head at my entrance.  Next to him is Ueda, looking as normal as ever.  The lawyer consults a file and looks up at me, appraising me.  "You are Detective Syaoran Li?"

"Yes."

"You're in charge of Sakura's case?"

I turn to Ueda, his mouth still open since talking.  I nod stiffly and bristle slightly.  There was something in his words.  Interest?  Smugness?  Something untraceable.  He isn't as meek as we thought he was.

I come back to reality in time to hear the lawyer begin speaking again.  His voice is clipped, professional, even the slightest bit weary.  "As you know, this interview has been granted through a deal that my client has made with the government.  We understand that you hope to gain information to the whereabouts of Kinomoto Sakura, a woman that you believe my client has abducted.  As per the deal, my client will not answer any questions directed towards the bombing incidents and other such criminal matters that are not directly related to Kinomoto Sakura.  Do you understand?"

Did I understand?  Of course I did.  The government basically just fucked me over.  How am I supposed to get everything out of him when he can't answer some of my major questions?  And he knows it's an obstacle to me, watching me with his impassive face.  Yes, very smug.  "I understand."

"Then you may proceed."  The older man whispers something to Ueda who nods back.

I pull out my beaten up little pad, long since abandoned.  There's still a page dated all the way back to Jyung.  Screw the build-up; there's only 1 thing I need to know.  All the rest, his motivation, all that shit can wait.  "Where is she?"

"Sakura you mean?"  He smiles a little, casual almost, just like the way he uses her name.  "Haven't a clue."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs, indifferent once again.  "I never had her, but I'm quite flattered that the police think that I did."

I fume and direct myself to the lawyer.  "Tell your client that telling lies will not help him in any way."

The lawyer is unperturbed.  He turns his dark eyes on me.  "I can assure you that this is what he has told me to be the truth."

I turn back to Ueda.  "And if you didn't take her who did?"

"I don't know, someone quite clever to have led the police on for so long I expect."

"I don't know what kind of fucking game you're playing, but you can be prosecuted for murder if we don't find her."

He smiles a little.  "Then I should be hoping you find her soon, ne?"  He pauses, straightens himself in the chair, talking slowly.  "Let's say, hypothetically, I had her.  Say stashed away somewhere, maybe in an isolated, abandoned area, with no one around to here her, no one to help her.  Only me there to feed her, check on her.  And now that I'm here, locked in a cell in Tomoeda, how long think she'll live without food, without water.  A week?"  His smugness returns in full force.  "Two?"  Another pause.  "Or perhaps she's already dead..."

It's no use evoking some calming exercise or any type of moderating thought.  I reach across the table and grip his collar tight, pulling him out of his seat.  There's a moment of fear on his face and it fuels me to yank him across the table.  "You fucking bastard.  I'm not playing your mind games."

The lawyer has his hands around my wrists, trying to tug me away.  "Detective Li, any violence that show my client may end up in disciplinary action against you.  We wouldn't want the police force to lose a good officer would we?"

I let go of Ueda and shove him back into seat.  "Are you going to tell me the truth?"

He looks me dead in the eye for a second and then across the room.  "I've told you everything "

"Fine."  There're dozens of other questions, but I can't focus on them.  He wouldn't answer them anyway, just be infuriatingly vague and self satisfied.  I yank open the door and stop on the threshold when I hear his voice.

"I _do_ hope you find Sakura."

I grind my teeth and slam the door.  What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I collide with someone as I round the corner.  Mizuki stumbles backwards a little and I help her keep her balance.  "Sorry."

"Not a problem."  She motions towards her office.  "I was looking for you.  I need to talk to you."  Her tone gives nothing away and I follow behind her as she leads the way.

We sit in her office, me in the chair across from her cluttered desk.  For once, it seems she doesn't look like she's near the edge.  "What's wrong?"

She sighs and moves a stack of files so she can look me in the face.  "You know that finding the Kinomoto girl is still a very important case, but we've put too many of the officers on the Ueda case that we're backed up here."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that since we've got him, we have to get back to our normal routine.  We've got murders, thefts, other missing persons cases that have been waiting for us for months and we need to get on them.  And it means that you're going to have to work the Kinomoto case alone."

"Alone?!"  I slam my hand down on the desk for effect.  "Does no one give a damn that she's going to die if we can't find her soon?"

Mizuki frowns at my outburst.  "Syaoran, she may be dead already."

"She's not!"  I angrily lean back in the chair.  Technically, she could be dead, maybe already dead for months…  "She's not dead."

"That may be so, Syaoran.  I'm willing to help you as much as I can, but I draw the line at focusing our entire force on a single case."

"But alone?"

"We have him in custody, Syaoran.  I have faith that you can get him to talk or at least figure out where she is."

Faith?  What I need is a god damned warrant the beat the truth out of Ueda without that stuck up lawyer spitting out legal shit at me.  What I need is a fucking lead.  She doesn't look like she'll change her mind and I angrily get up.  "Right."  I rip the door open and stalk out the door.  How the hell am I supposed to solve this case alone?  Where the hell are you Sakura?

_______________________________________________

Notes:  Heh, well another chapter out.  Next chapter:  interview with Ueda part 2 and some more Syaoran angst.  We should be back to present the chapter after next.


	17. Interrogation

Author's Notes:  Hey all, I can't believe it's 3 months already.  I really need to stop making promises I can't keep.  I know this chapter is short, but the climax of the story is coming right up so the next few chapters should be chock full of plot and happenings.

Disclaimer:  CCS is not mine and neither is the merchandising goldmine.

And a lot of arigatous to **Ophelia Winters**, **Final Fantasy Princess**, **KanbiAme**, **Sheryl V**, **les** (Ueda's guilt or innocence is answered here, that is if you believe him *smirk*), **LiL LiLy**, **jbg**, **Pochacco**, **meinien**, **Jcherry**, **LiLDraGoNGuRL28** (sure, sure flatter me…just wait till my explodes), **Silly*Niecy** (I'll remind myself not to eat suspicious cookies), **Kirika** (sorry, I just had the urge to put in a few irrelevant subplots like the drug business), **Crazygurl** (*sweatdrop* maybe you need some downers…but thanks for the wishes of inspiration), **Aisukii**, **Kitty Neko**, japanfan (just a year of elementary Japanese…and the answer to you question is…in this chapter actually), **Ongaku**, **BGR**, **Son Sunami**, **s jus me**,  **reveileb maerdyad** (prelims and finals apparently…can't believe it was 3 months…),  **Megami No Hikari**, **Cherry Sweetheart** (you may have no idea cause I'm winging it…), **Tempest in a Teacup**, **KayJuli** (I suspect she's still in her dark room…), **Sora Kyae**, **Enchantress Azure** (I know about the site overload things…nuisances the lot of them), **zxoaswtxiaolangoxz** (oi, you have a very complicated pen name), **Star Lite**, **shazaoblossom**, **cherryblossomsakura2111** (well the interrogation aspect comes into play here…with a new twist), **Rosie**, **Ying Fa** (sorry, you'll have to find out if you're right in the coming chapters), **lozza-pilgrim** (well, a month an a half is like 6 days, just multiplied a few times…*looks sheepish*), **nightshadow**, **SaKuRa Kinomoto-Li** (well, a little Clue), **Magic Knight Nancy** (well, the kidnapper was playing Clue with the police for a few chapters if that helps), **Abbess** (intriguing hypothesis), **Neko90** (sorry, sorry, don't kill innocent things)  

The Hunt For A Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 17:  Interrogation

September 10 

The hours slip by quickly when you know time is your enemy.  The sun disappeared beyond the skyline hours ago, and the whitish yellow of the lights overhead in the precinct are starting to sting my eyes.  It's a little after midnight and the prospect of another sunrise with the bitter taste of coffee and defeat isn't an appetizing thought.  The steady stream of officers has slowed considerably, only a few night shift and overtime workers here besides me.  The station is all but dead in the middle of the night.

Hours lay ahead of me, and I hastily push away the files that have piled up before me.  No matter how hard I've scrutinized the statements and records, there's nothing to suggest Sakura's whereabouts.  In fact the only way to find her would be to get it out of Ueda's mouth and with that sly lawyer on the loose, that's as likely to happen as the moon dropping out of the sky into the ocean.  And yet I'm convinced that a few unguarded minutes are all it would take.

The urge is strong and battles against the ethics that we take an oath to uphold.  But beyond them, there is a person whose life is at stake and a family that is lost and floundering.  In the end the decision is not such a hard one to make.  I carefully slip out of my chair, taking a roundabout route towards the cells.  A few nods of acknowledgement to other officers, a stop to get some water from the fountain, and then a quick twist of the knob and I'm in a dimmer room, facing the officer on guard duty.  In fact, staring up at the grim professional face of Yanagisawa.  Somehow I'm not surprised.  "Hey."

She nods curtly and takes a quick look down the hall as if she knows exactly where my train of thought leads.  "Not planning on some illegal interrogation are we?"

It would almost be a joke if she wasn't looking solemn and forbidding.  I almost try to look offended but the thing with Naoko is she sees through bullshit easy.  "You have to let me do this."  

She quirks an eyebrow that tells me obviously no one tells her to she 'has to' do anything.  "The lawyer will be out for your badge.  Mizuki will probably be forced to take it away."

I stare levelly at her to tell her how serious I am.  "Right now, it doesn't matter.  You know me Naoko.  I won't hurt him or do anything crazy like that, but I need answers."  She still looks on the fence and I try bargaining with her sense of conscience.  "Look, this bastard has the Kinomoto girl, and the longer we can't get anything out of him the less time she's got.  And you know with those lawyers making deals and crap we're never going to get close enough to force it out of him.  All I need is fifteen minutes."

She gives me a long careful appraising stare before reaching behind her and picking up a coffee mug.  She makes an exaggerated yawn.  "Hmm, I'm suddenly very tired.  I guess a coffee break's in order.  I hope _no one_ sneaks in here while I'm gone because I can't be responsible for what happens."  And with a quick nod she opens the door and leaves me alone in the cells.  Sometimes, in a blue moon, you can actually tell she has a heart.  Barely.

My footsteps are loud in the darkness.  The holding cells are mostly empty, having been a somewhat slow day.  No doubt with the rising sun, they'll be packed again.  It's almost a given.  The walk down the aisle is slow and deliberate as I head towards the last cell.  

The lights are at their lowest setting in here, the barest illumination so guards can make sure the detainees are accounted.  Ueda's lying on the regulation metal slab of a bed, still and unmoving.  I stand and watch a few minutes the man who had so terrorized the city, sleeping and curled up in a loose fetal position.  It seems somehow impossible that such a person could cause such fear among thousands.  But you aren't an officer if you don't learn that people have a habit of surprising you.

And as he takes another breath in, I abruptly I bang hard against the bars, eliciting a low clanging sound.  The body stirs a little and then straightens out as he resurfaces.  I can barely make out his face from the dimness but I can tell he's awake, and on edge, with his body tense and rigid.  "Did I wake you?"

He slowly sits up and watches me warily, the whites of his eyes shining.  "What do you want?"

I stay silent for a bit and start to pace a little in front of the bars, slowly.  "Answers."

His voice is low and clogged, and I wonder if the psychologist had been more right than I gave him credit for.  "You're not allowed to be talking to me…not without my lawyer."

I laugh, a short end of my tether laugh.  "Well he's not here now is he?  And now if you'll answer a few questions…"

He stays silent for a moment, as if rallying his confidence.  "No, I'm not saying a word."

"How unfortunate.  I may have to _persuade_ you then"

"Y-you can't harm me, you wouldn't dare."  His voice is unsteady like before and I can tell he's beginning to fear me.  It seems the doctor was very right indeed.

"Why?  No one knows I'm here.  I have free reign to do what I please."  And I stop pacing and step very close to the bars, staring him down and watching him fold.  I've been told I have a fairly menacing glare.  "Of course, you could spare yourself if you answered a few questions."

"No, you can't…"  I squeeze the bars hard and glare at him with all the force I can muster, and his words die in his throat.

"It would save you some…unpleasantness."

Doubtless he remembers how I had him by the throat a few hours ago and his entire demeanor changes.  His hands twist themselves nervously and his back is hunched over.  Finally, with a voice that's nearly too quiet to be heard he says, "Al-alright, what do you want to know?"

I close my eyes and hide my relief at his surrender, not wishing him to know how close I had feared losing the case altogether.   "I only need one answer:  where is Sakura?"

And this time he startles me by laughing, a disbelieving sort of hysterical laugh that brings his hands to his face.  His voice is hoarse now, and dark with bitterness.  "Still won't believe I was telling the truth?  Still think I have her stashed away somewhere?  Well, I hate to burst your bubble but I don't have her.  Never did."

Somehow under his distress I can feel a sick ring of truth.  "So who has her?" I persist, rattling the bar a little for emphasis.

He shrugs half-heartedly, bowed low over his own lap.  The yellow lights trace his outline in a feeble discouraging way.  "How the hell would I know?  Some copycat or another.  I wasn't lying when I said he was damn smart."  And he looks up and gives me a scared, vindictive defeated sneer.  "Got you chasing after the wild goose for months, didn't he?" 

I think if I had had the key, I might have really hurt him.  Instead I end up walking away, each step pouring out the last of my patience.  Despite his guilt, his words rang true and only confirms my worst fears.  The good old doctor was right on another count.  We were dealing with two minds and we didn't realize it.  

I don't even meet Yanagisawa's face as I pass through the door and head back to my desk.  There's only one question left to think about.  What's next?  If I take Ueda's words as truth, which reluctantly I'm leaning towards believing, all our evidence must be reevaluated.  Staring at my scattered notes form Sakura's phone calls, there is her description of her rooms, of the sailboat picture beyond the door.  No such picture was hanging on Ueda's walls.  The possibility of a secreted hideaway is ridiculous at best.   And if the case needs to be rethought out?  How much of Hanaka's psychological profile now extends to Ueda and how much to Sakura's kidnapper?  

And where does it leave the case?  We've eliminated her friends, coworkers, family, and boyfriends.  It only leaves strangers, and yet what would be the motive for a stranger to abduct her?  To hold her nearly six months without demands of ransom or any other payment.  To play a twisted parody of Clue with the police and never do anything more than taunt?  What was the angle?  She said it wasn't sex; we've ruled out money, jealousy, hatred.  Was it a random act of someone mentally unstable?  To do it because he could? 

And what evidence did we have on her case besides what we assumed from Ueda's files?  That a man kidnapped her after work, that she is being kept in a windowless room and fed daily by her captor.  The key pieces are still missing.  The basic elements of a criminal action.  The motive is not discernable.  Opportunity lends itself to anyone in the city.  

All trails lead back to the beginning:  who kidnapped her and why?  Dissecting the case, there's always the one shadowed man that no one has seen and who has effectively disappeared into the faceless thousands of Tomoeda.  The kidnapping itself then is a dead end, and therefore any relevant clues lie in the investigation itself, but divorcing the now useless evidence based on Ueda's crimes leaves everything in loose ends.

There is first and foremost the importance of the letters, as it is now the only real first appearance of the kidnapper in the case.  It is elusive, mimicking the pattern of Ueda's notes, letters that at once led the investigation astray.  And what of the game of Clue, and the twisted psychology that lay behind it?  And yet he did not follow through with his own rules.  It was definitely different than Ueda; this kidnapper was willing to go through the trouble to craft an elaborate game of cat and mouse but had no intention of playing the game.  Why would someone do that?  Was it to play a part?  To seem like the obsessive criminal while obscuring a very sane and rational mind?  

And if it was the case, it had certainly worked.  But unwittingly Hanaka had caught on to the pretender, the inconsistency between violence and Ueda's central meekness.  But what good did that do?  Now it was a larger suspect pool.  Gone are the lists and lists of disgruntled government employees.  Gone are also the hours of scouring through those lists for search of a suspect.  

And all the relevant evidence that remains are letters without fingerprints, Sakura's phone calls and a confused sloppy psychological profile.  And yet, something within me is arousing my instincts, telling me that the answer, as obscure and impossible as it may seem, is staring me in the face.  That there is crucial aspect of the evidence that I have yet to consider and could open an unexplored avenue of investigation.

But my wristwatch tells me its after two in the morning and my eyes are heavy from staring at the mess of files and folders, a tangle of evidence of two now apparently unrelated cases.  The now relevant evidence is very slim, but I can't get rid of feeling that despite the lack of physical clues there is one logical rationale that runs through the case regardless of fingerprints or paper clippings or eyewitnesses.  And all I need to do is to grasp it and pull.  

But the haziness of exhaustion is too powerful to leave my faculties clear and I am forced to close my eyes, vowing to redouble my efforts after a few seconds of rest.  However, the furtive cloak of sleep slips over me subtly and before I know it, the sun is streaming through the glass doors of the precinct and I am again very much disturbed by how the close the answer to Sakura's disappearance feels. 

____________________________________________________

Author's Notes:  Just to catch everyone up, the next chapter takes off right at the diner we're in from all the way back to Chapter 1.  That's right, this chapter was 'yesterday' and it's now finally the present!


	18. The Kidnapper

Author's Note:  Wow, that was a long break.  I swear it seems like only a few weeks to me, but it's about 5 months.  And here I was promising myself I'd get this tied up by Christmas.  Anyway, I'd offer you all an excuse about work and stuff, but I'd rather not.  Believe me, I'm very, very annoyed at myself for letting the story languish for so long.  But here is a new chapter and I'm thankful to say there are 2 more main chapters, and probably an epilogue to go.  Oh, we're also back to the present (where the first chapter starts). 

Thanks everyone for their kind words and inhuman patience: **Azi**, **Enchantress Azure**, **cherryblossomsakura2111** (hate cliffhangers do you? **laughs nervously  heh), elisa ang (you and me both, I so want to wrap this story up), Jazzy4, Cat Li, Mini Sweety (yeah, still trying to work some S+S, will happen soon, hopefully), MagicKnightNancy, Crazy-cherry (she had a cell phone, but it died), Blushing Sigh, Final Fantasy Princess (believe me, I had to go back to refresh my memory and I'm the author…), KayJuli,  LiLDraGoNGuRL28, Tempest in a Teacup, Grinning Contrivance, Inuyasha's girl 4-ever,  SillyNiecy** (yes, still in university, over in England for the year, which is my excuse for not updating in a while), **Meruru-chan**, **jbg** (well, you're close), **BGR**, **reviewer**, **Lemon Parade**, **Nekoi** (very interesting ideas you have there, I wish you'd mentioned them before I worked out the plot line), **Cherry-SweetHeart**, **japanfan** (well, just in time for Christmas break.  **laughs nervously**), **Fa I ya**, **shazaoblossom**, **Inkblots, s jus me**, **crystal** (oh, this story is Syaoran's POV, except for that one Sakura POV in chapter 5), **The Dark Neko** (I like your logic; in a way it's very close to what I have in mind), **anonymous**, **nightshadow1**, **EvilAngel995**, **the impatient one** (I know, I'm so ashamed; things have been well…in major upheaval mode this entire fall), **Kris**, **Rushi Star**, **Sakura Naoko**, **Rika**, **Light in the Darkness**, **anj**, **Lunar Hotaru** (I read a lot of detective fiction which always has cops in them, but then again I'm sure Syaoran's POV is nothing like a real cop POV, but hey, this is fiction after…), **Anon**, **Fylleth**.

The Hunt for a Cherry Blossom 

Chapter 18:  The Kidnapper

September 11 

"And now my eyes hurt, I'm tired and I feel like shit," I finish over my third cup of coffee in the past hour.  

"Jeez, Syaoran.  I work at the precinct you know.  You didn't need to tell me the whole story…"  Yamazaki smiles in an infuriatingly disarming smile at the waitress as she passes by.  "I was helping you on the case for a bit, remember?"

I scowl deeply into the surface of the coffee, so black that it reflects my face.  "Shut up, I'm not in the mood alright?"

"Yeah, I got it, Syaoran."  We lapse into a silence and I finish off the last of my coffee.  "You sure it can't be Ueda?"

"I'm sure.  He doesn't fit Hanaka's profile and I don't know, it doesn't feel right.  Besides, he has no motive, and no place to put her."

"He doesn't need a place to put her if she's…"

"She's not."  Yamazaki gives me a wary doubtful look and it makes me unaccountably angry, as if he pities me for my denial.  "I know there's more than a good chance she's…but she's alive.  She is."  The affirmation sounds even weak to me.

"Alright Syaoran.  Say she's alive, where is she?  We've crossed off Ueda but she could be with anyone."  He sighs and pushes his empty plate away from him.  "I can't help thinking Ueda's the criminal, I mean how does a random guy pull off such a copycat?  Things that fooled even our own experts."

"I don't know, Yamazaki.  That's the problem I keep running up against.  It's not a coincidence that we were led to believe Ueda was the kidnapper.  Someone wanted us to and succeeded in making us believe it.  The only way that that could happen is if…"  I trail off into silence as some thought is starting to form in my head.  It's ridiculous, almost sacrilegious in a way, but the more it develops the more questions it solves.  And it narrows down the field to three.  

Yamazaki must have noticed the look on my face and he gives me a wary look.  "What is it Syaoran?  You think of something?"

I nod slowly, putting the last pieces into place.  "Just a crazy idea, but I'll need you help."

"It's not going to end up with Chief Mizuki threatening me with suspension is it?"

"Not if I'm right."

He rolls his eyes in resignation.  "Alright, what the hell.  Life's short, right?"

I manage to smile at him, even with the weight of the desperate illegal actions I'm planning.  "Thanks, this is what we need to do."

______________________________________________

I meet Yamazaki at the front doors of the precinct.  He walks the way I feel, nervous and trying to smother any conspicuous behaviour.  The same way I walked into the records office when the clerk went on a cigarette break, the same look as I rifled through confidential files.  "You sure you're right Syaoran?"

I rub the edge of a hastily scrawled address in my pocket.  "No, but it's our best bet right now.  Let's go."

"Yeah, one step closer to being fired right?  Can't wait."

I give him a halfhearted glare and head off towards the car.  The car ride is in silence, the weight of the protocols that we're ignoring settling over us like a layer of heavy smoke.  We approach the house slowly, sliding into place across the street.  The driveway's empty and there's no sign of life, as I expected.

Casually and stiffly we get out of the car and cross the street.  It's a comfortable sized house, without a porch but a good two stories.  The vinyl siding is clean and white, the windows screened and open.  A row of shrubs lines the west side of the house and a paved path curves around the east side, presumably to the side or back door.  Yamazaki and I peer into the windows; the inside is dim and empty.  We ring the doorbell a few times, but no one answers.  We follow the path around to the back door and knock a few times, but again there's no sign of life inside the house.  I give Yamazaki a pointed look and motion with my head to the aluminum back door.  "You know what you're doing?"

He nods, looking serious for once, and takes a quick look behind him.  "Standing guard right here.  Now get going, I don't want to be here longer than I have to."

"Right."  I take a quick appraisal of the small backyard, fenced in and providing good cover for a break in.  Picking locks isn't in the police manual and I wish now that it was.  As it is, I bunch the sleeve of my coat over my fist and strike the glass, right in the center of the window in the door.  The glass cracks and spreads across the pane like a spider's web.  I strike it again, and the pieces crack apart and fall inward with a low scratchy bell like sound.  Careful to avoid the jagged edges of the glass still in the frame, I reach in and twist open the doorknob.

It's a funny thing you learn as a policeman that people can buy all the high tech alarm systems to protect themselves, but they always forget some of the most basic principles of safety.  For instance, there's another door beyond the aluminum one, solid wood and virtually impassable.  And unlocked.

The inside of the house is clean, tidy.  The dishes are in the draining rack, the chairs are tucked under the kitchen table, cushions nestled into the corners of their respective sofas, even a few empty beer bottles are clustered together on the living room table ready for disposal.  Photos are framed and arranged on the bookshelves in the den, and various prints and watercolours hang on the white walls.  In fact, it's very much a family home.

I prowl around the rooms, reminded of my gun every step, its angles against the small of my back.  The ground floor has a simple plan, interconnecting family rooms and a bathroom.  There are three closed doors, and with a hand on my gun, I open the first two.  Closets.  The last is over by the west side of the house and looks unlike that last two.  It's a large heavy looking door on the side of a small hallway that leads into the laundry room.  Opposite the door is a large framed sketch of a boat.  The sight of it gives me chills, as if I know it from somewhere.  This time, I pull my gun loose from its holster and hold it out in front of me as I reach out to turn the knob.  It doesn't budge; it's locked.  The nervous feeling intensifies and I click the safety off my gun.  I twist the lock open and try the door again.  It turns easily, well oiled, and I push it inward slowly.

It's dark inside, pitch black.  The smell is overwhelming, a thick smell of human occupancy.  I move a small step towards the threshold and train my gun down the stairs, down into the darkness.  With my left hand, I search the wall for a light switch, but nothing happens when I find it and flick it.  But it was then that I thought I heard a sound somewhere below.  I approached the top of the stairs straining to see into the black.  "Hello, is someone down there?"  No answer.  "I'm with the Tomoeda police department.  Is there someone here?"  This time there is definite sound, scuffling, approaching.  I put my left hand around my right to steady my aim.

Surreal, a figure is expelled from the dark, dim in the feeble light at the foot of the stairs.  But I can tell it's a woman, squinting and craning her neck forward to make me out.  I drop the gun to my side and step down onto the top stair.  Sweat makes my hands damp, and adrenaline makes my movement and voice jerky.  "I'm Li Syaoran.  With the police department.  Are you Sakura?  Ms. Kinomoto?"

The woman straightens and looks up at me, this time with fully open eyes and stares.  Stares for I don't know how long, then she's climbing up the stairs, clumsily but steadily.  Until she's only about ten stairs away and suddenly stops.  She's still staring at me as she takes a frightened step back down a stair, and then another.

I realize belatedly then, that her eyes aren't on me.  It's on the man who has put the cold lip of a gun to the back of my head.  

"Drop the gun."

I open my hand and the weapon clunks onto the stair.  I stare down at Sakura, who is slowly retreating back into the darkness.  "You," I accuse into the formless dark.

"Me," he says simply.  The gun slides up the curve of my skull and then leaves my skin, brushing my hair as it retreats back.  "Goodbye, Syaoran."

Sakura is gone again from sight and I close my eyes, acutely aware of the fear and tension rising up inside me.

A gunshot explodes in my ear.  

_________________________________________________

Author's Note:  Oh, I know I am a dead one right now in all your eyes.  The first chapter in this fic in 5 months and it's a cliffhanger.  Would it make you less likely to kill me if I tell you there's S+S in the next chapter?


End file.
